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40 Summer Poems for Kids – The Best Poetry for Children

July 14, 2021 by thisintentionalhome 4 Comments

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Wanting to add some fun summer poems for kids into your summer routine? This post has all the summer poetry you will need to get your family reading and enjoying poetry this season. Here I share why you should add summer poems into your routine and 40 poems to get you started!

Summer Poems for Kids.  Three Kids reading summer poetry outside for summer poetry tea time.

Why summer is a great time to read children’s poems

It’s that time of year again…summer!! And I’m so excited to be sharing a fun way to incorporate some added beauty into our days! I have a kid in first grade, Pre-k and Preschool and I wanted to get some summer poetry for them…and while I’m at it, for you! But all these poems are great for all ages! In another post I talked about why poetry is so important in the lives of children.  But today I want to specifically talk about incorporating poetry into your summer routine. So here are a few reasons why you should

  1. Reading poetry is such an excellent way to get learning into your summer break. Or if you school year round, it would be a fun way to add summer fun into your school day!
  2. Reading poetry in the summer will help your kids notice more in nature while they are out. Maybe they will remember a poem you read and it will make them pay closer attention to what they are looking at?
  3. It will help your kids focus on goodness, positivity and beauty. It will give them a taste of beautiful words and help them expand their vocabulary to further express themselves. Maybe they will even want to write their own poems!

So here are my favorite summer poems for either relaxing summer mornings or maybe an afternoon poetry tea time!

A List of the Best Summer Poems for Kids

Summer by Christina Rossetti
Winter is cold-hearted,
  Spring is yea and nay,
Autumn is a weathercock
  Blown every way:
Summer days for me
  When every leaf is on its tree;

When Robin's not a beggar,
  And Jenny Wren's a bride,
And larks hang singing, singing, singing,
  Over the wheat-fields wide,
  And anchored lilies ride,
And the pendulum spider
  Swings from side to side,

And blue-black beetles transact business,
  And gnats fly in a host,
And furry caterpillars hasten
  That no time be lost,
And moths grow fat and thrive,
And ladybirds arrive.

Before green apples blush,
  Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
  Is worth a month in town;
  Is worth a day and a year
Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion
  That days drone elsewhere.
Summer's Melody by Edel T. Copeland *
Rippling crystal waters shine like silver to reflect summer's glow.
Soothing and calming in rhythm, echoing its lyrical flow.
Magical music of nature, a symphony of splendid delight.
Skies like blue oceans in paradise, birds soaring to grasp full flight.

Gentle swans glide gracefully, elegant yet proud and strong,
Birds and bees in unison, the joyful hum of nature's song.
Rolling summer meadows shimmer, like jewels in Mother Nature's crown.
Embellishing fields of emerald green draped in its golden gown.

Light sweet air blows softly, scented by sweet cherry blossom in bloom.
Delicate, pretty petals lifting to dance in harmony with summer's tune.
The sounds and scents of summer, its melody light and free.
Sands of gold that glisten, embracing waves of a warm and whispering sea.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/summers-melody
In Summer by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies’ soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
And now for the kiss of the wind,
And the touch of the air’s soft hands,
With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
With the freedom of lakes and lands.
I envy the farmer’s boy
Who sings as he follows the plow;
While the shining green of the young blades lean
To the breezes that cool his brow.
He sings to the dewy morn,
No thought of another’s ear;
But the song he sings is a chant for kings
And the whole wide world to hear.
He sings of the joys of life,
Of the pleasures of work and rest,
From an o’erfull heart, without aim or art;
‘T is a song of the merriest.
O ye who toil in the town,
And ye who moil in the mart,
Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong
Shall renew your joy of heart.
Oh, poor were the worth of the world
If never a song were heard,—
If the sting of grief had no relief,
And never a heart were stirred.
So, long as the streams run down,
And as long as the robins trill,
Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,
And sing in the face of ill.
Here Comes by Shel Silverstein
Here comes summer,
Here comes summer,
Chirping robin, budding rose.
Here comes summer,
Here comes summer,
Gentle showers, summer clothes.
Here comes summer,
Here comes summer—
Whoosh—shiver—there it goes.
 

Fireflies

Fireflies in the Garden by Robert Frost

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.
Firefly by Elizabeth Madox Roberts
 A little light is going by;
 Is going up to see the sky,
 A little light with wings.
 
 I never could have thought of it,
 To have a little bug all lit
 And made to go on wings.

Color of Summer

Primrose by William Carlos Williams
 Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! 
 It is not a color. 
 It is summer! 
 It is the wind on a willow, 
 the lap of waves, the shadow 
 under a bush, a bird, a bluebird, 
 three herons, a dead hawk 
 rotting on a pole-- 
 Clear yellow! 
 It is a piece of blue paper
 in the grass or a threecluster of 
 green walnuts swaying, children 
 playing croquet or one boy 
 fishing, a man 
 swinging his pink fists 
 as he walks-- 
 It is ladysthumb, forget-me-nots 
 in the ditch, moss under 
 the flange of the carrail, the 
 wavy lines in split rock, a
 great oaktree-- 
 It is a disinclination to be 
 five red petals or a rose, it is 
 a cluster of birdsbreast flowers 
 on a red stem six feet high, 
 four open yellow petals 
 above sepals curled 
 backward into reverse spikes-- 
 Tufts of purple grass spot the 
 green meadow and clouds the sky.
What is Yellow by Mary O’Neill
 What is Yellow?
 Yellow is the color of the sun The feeling of fun
 The yolk of an egg
 A duck’s bill
 A canary bird
 And a daffodil.
 Yellow’s sweet corn
 Ripe oats
 Hummingbird’s little throats Summer squash and Chinese silk The cream on top of Jersey milk Dandelions and daisy hearts Custard pies and
 Lemon tarts.
 Yellow blinks
 On summer nights
 In the off-and-on of Firefly lights. Yellow’s a topaz
 A candle flame. Felicity’s a
 Yellow name.
 Yellow’s mimosa,
 And I guess,
 Yellow’s the color of Happiness
Thank You for Summer by Unknown
 Thank you, God, for summer
 With all its flowers gay,
 And birds that sing, and green grass,
 And butterflies that play
 At hide and seek with clover,
 And blossoms on the trees,
 And sunshine bright, and showers,
 And every cooling breeze. 
 
 Yes, thank you, God, for summer;
 And always at my play
 Help me, Thy child, remember
 These gifts of Thine, I pray.
A Calendar (excerpt) by Sara Coleridge
 June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
   Fills the children’s hands with posies.
 
Hot July brings cooling showers,
 Apricots, and gillyflowers.
 
 August brings the sheaves of corn,
 Then the harvest home is borne.
July by cristin o’keefe aptowicz
The figs we ate wrapped in bacon.
The gelato we consumed greedily:
coconut milk, clove, fresh pear.
How we’d dump hot espresso on it
just to watch it melt, licking our spoons
clean. The potatoes fried in duck fat,
the salt we’d suck off our fingers,
the eggs we’d watch get beaten
’til they were a dizzying bright yellow,
how their edges crisped in the pan.
The pink salt blossom of prosciutto
we pulled apart with our hands, melted
on our eager tongues. The green herbs
with goat cheese, the aged brie paired
with a small pot of strawberry jam,
the final sour cherry we kept politely
pushing onto each other’s plate, saying,
No, you. But it’s so good. No, it’s yours. 
How I finally put an end to it, plucked it
from the plate, and stuck it in my mouth.
How good it tasted: so sweet and so tart.
How good it felt: to want something and
pretend you don’t, and to get it anyway.

Insects of Summer

On the Grasshopper and Cricket by John Keats
 The Poetry of earth is never dead:    
   When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,    
   And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run    
 From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;    
 That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead       
   In summer luxury,—he has never done    
   With his delights; for when tired out with fun    
 He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.    
 The poetry of earth is ceasing never:    
   On a lone winter evening, when the frost      
     Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills    
 The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,    
   And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,    
     The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.
Where the Bee Sucks by William Shakespeare (excerpt from A Tempest)
 Where the bee sucks, there suck I: 
 In a cowslip’s bell I lie; 
 There I couch when owls do cry. 
 On the bat’s back I do fly 
 After summer merrily.   
 Merrily, merrily shall I live now 
 Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
The Bee is Not Afraid of Me by Emily Dickinson
 The Bee is not afraid of me. 
 I know the Butterfly. 
 The pretty people in the Woods 
 Receive me cordially— 

 The Brooks laugh louder when I come— 
 The Breezes madder play; 
 Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,
 Wherefore, Oh Summer's Day?
Mister Fly by Thomas Miller
 What a sharp little fellow is Mister Fly, 
 He goes where he pleases, low or high, 
 And can walk just as well with his feet to the sky 
 As I can on the floor.
 At the window he comes,
 With a buzz and a roar, 
 And o'er the smooth glass,
 Can easily pass, 
 Or through the key-hole of the door. 
 
 He eats the sugar, and goes away, 
 Nor ever once asks what there is to pay;
 And sometimes he crosses the teapot's steam, 
 And comes and plunges his head in the cream; 
 Then on the edge of the jug he stands, 
 And cleans his wings with his feet and hands. 
 This done, through the window he hurries away, 
 And gives a buzz as if to say, 
 "At present I haven't a minute to stay, 
 But I'll peep in again in the course of the day." 
 
 Then again he'll fly 
 Where the sunbeams lie, 
 And neither stop to shake hands,
 Nor bid one good-bye: 
 Such a strange little fellow is Mister Fly, 
 Who goes where he pleases, low or high, 
 And can walk on the ceiling 
 Without ever feeling 
 A fear of tumbling down “sky-high."

Summer Fun

Playgrounds by Laurence
 In summer I am very glad
 We children are so small,
 For we can see a thousand things
 That men can't see at all.
 
 They don't know much about the moss
 And all the stones they pass:
 They never lie and play among
 The forests in the grass:
 
 They walk about a long way off; 
 And, when we're at the sea,
 Let father stoop as best he can
 He can't find things like me.
 
 But, when the snow is on the ground
 And all the puddles freeze,
 I wish that I were very tall,
 High up above the trees.
Swimming by Clinton Scollard
When all the days are hot and long
       And robin bird has ceased his song,
 I go swimming every day
      And have the finest kind of play.
  
 I’ve learned to dive and I can float
      As easily as does a boat;
 I splash and plunge and laugh and shout
      Till Daddy tells me to come out.
  
 It’s much too soon; I’d like to cry
      For I can see the ducks go by,
 And Daddy Duck - how I love him -
      He lets his children swim and swim!
  
 I feel that I would be in luck
      If I could only be a duck!

Summer Nights

One Summer Night by Arnold Lobel
 One summer night
 In early June,
 A frog looked upward at the moon.
 He said, “I’ll jump
 Right on that thing
 Without the use
 Of jet or spring.”
 He counted three,
 Then jumped quite high
 And hit the moon
 In late July
Bed in Summer by Robert Louis Stevenson
 In winter I get up at night 
 And dress by yellow candle-light. 
 In summer, quite the other way, 
 I have to go to bed by day. 
 
 I have to go to bed and see 
 The birds still hopping on the tree, 
 Or hear the grown-up people's feet 
 Still going past me in the street. 
 
 And does it not seem hard to you, 
 When all the sky is clear and blue, 
 And I should like so much to play, 
 To have to go to bed by day?
Goodnight by Carl Sandburg
 Many ways to say good night.

 Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth of July
       spell it with red wheels and yellow spokes.
 They fizz in the air, touch the water and quit.
 Rockets make a trajectory of gold-and-blue
       and then go out.
 
Railroad trains at night spell with a smokestack mushrooming a white pillar.
 
Steamboats turn a curve in the Mississippi crying a baritone that crosses lowland 
 cottonfields to razorback hill.
 
It is easy to spell good night.
             Many ways to spell good night.
Summer Nights by Langston Hughes
The sounds
Of the Harlem night
Drop one by one into stillness.
The last player-piano is closed.
The last victrola ceases with the
“Jazz Boy Blues.”
The last crying baby sleeps
And the night becomes
Still as a whispering heartbeat.
I toss
Without rest in the darkness,
Weary as the tired night,
My soul
Empty as the silence,
Empty with a vague,
Aching emptiness,
Desiring,
Needing someone,
Something.
I toss without rest
In the darkness
Until the new dawn,
Wan and pale,
Descends like a white mist
Into the court-yard.
Summer Haibun by aimee nezhukumatathil *
To everything, there is a season of parrots. Instead of feathers, we searched the sky for meteors on our last night. Salamanders use the stars to find their way home. Who knew they could see that far, fix the tiny beads of their eyes on distant arrangements of lights so as to return to wet and wild nests? Our heads tilt up and up and we are careful to never look at each other. You were born on a day of peaches splitting from so much rain and the slick smell of fresh tar and asphalt pushed over a cracked parking lot. You were strong enough—even as a baby—to clutch a fistful of thistle and the sun himself was proud to light up your teeth when they first swelled and pushed up from your gums. And this is how I will always remember you when we are covered up again: by the pale mica flecks on your shoulders. Some thrown there from your own smile. Some from my own teeth. There are not enough jam jars to can this summer sky at night. I want to spread those little meteors on a hunk of still-warm bread this winter. Any trace left on the knife will make a kitchen sink like that evening air
the cool night before
star showers: so sticky so
warm so full of light
Summer Stars by Carl Sandburg
 Bend low again, night of summer stars.
 So near you are, sky of summer stars, 
 So near, a long-arm man can pick off stars, 
 Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl, 
 So near you are, summer stars, 
 So near, strumming, strumming, 
                 So lazy and hum-strumming.
Summer Song by William Carlos Williams
Wanderer moon 
smiling a 
faintly ironical smile 
at this 
brilliant, dew-moistened 
summer morning,— 
a detached 
sleepily indifferent smile, a
 wanderer's smile,—
 if I should 
buy a shirt 
your color and
 put on a necktie 
sky-blue 
where would they carry me?

Trees, Grass and Flowers

Trees by Joyce Kilmer
 I think that I shall never see
 A poem lovely as a tree.
 
 A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
 Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
 
 A tree that looks at God all day,
 And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
 
 A tree that may in Summer wear
 A nest of robins in her hair;
 
 Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
 Who intimately lives with rain.
 
 Poems are made by fools like me,
 But only God can make a tree.
Grass by Kathleen Fraser
 Grass!
 That’s my grass,
 Green, poking, cool in hot summer
 And yellow under the washtub.
 From there I’ve seen stars falling.
 The grass is my second skin.
 Drawers opening, spilling with green.  Or doors.
 Each blade the entrance to the grass city.
 Lie in it it. Open slowly to it.  The creatures moving there are among the endless waving forests of green.
 The names of grasses have their own smell:
 Beach grass, beard grass, bengal grass, bent, bent grass, running barefoot grass
 Bermuda, blue joint, and bog grass
 Bristly foxtail
 Bunch grass in bunches
 Canary grass singing
 China grass, ping! (And tiny figures floating in it)
The Oak by Mary Elliot
 Observe, dear George, this nut is small;
 The Acorn is its name;
 Would you suppose yon tree so tall
 From such a trifle came?
 
 The Acorn, buried in the earth,
 When many years are past
 Becomes the oak of matchless worth,
 Whose strength will ages last.
 
 In Summer, pleasant is its shade,
 But greater far its use;
 The wood which forms our ships for trade
 Its body can produce.
 
 And many other things beside,
 I cannot now explain;
 For where its merits have been tried,
 They were not tried in vain.
 
Dandelion by Unknown
 There was a pretty dandelion
 With lovely, fluffy hair,
 That glistened in the sunshine
 And in the summer air.
 But oh! this pretty dandelion
 Soon grew old and grey;
 And, sad to tell! her charming hair
 Blew many miles away.
Summer Grass by Carl Sandburg
 Summer grass aches and whispers
 It wants something; it calls and it sings; it pours
             Out wishes to the overhead stars.
 The rain hears; the rain answers; the rain is slow
             Coming; the rain wets the face of the grass.
To make a Prairie by Emily Dickinson
 To make a Prairie it takes a clover and one bee, —
 One clover, and a bee,
 And revery.
 The revery alone will do
 If bees are few.

Summer Birds

For a Bird by Myra Cohn Livingston
 I found him lying near the tree;
 I folded up his wings.
 Oh, little bird,
 You never heard
 The song the summer sings.
 I wrapped him in a shirt I wore
                          in winter;
 it was blue.
 Oh, little bird,
 You never heard
 The song I sang to you.
To hear an Oriole Sings by Emily Dickinson
To hear an Oriole sing
May be a common thing—
Or only a divine.

It is not of the Bird
Who sings the same, unheard,
As unto Crowd—

The Fashion of the Ear
Attireth that it hear
In Dun, or fair—

So whether it be Rune,
Or whether it be none
Is of within.

The "Tune is in the Tree—"
The Skeptic—showeth me—
"No Sir! In Thee!" 

More Summer Nature

The Waking by Theodore Roethke
I strolled across
 An open field;
 The sun was out;
 Heat was happy.
 
 This way! This way!
 The wren’s throat shimmered,
 Either to other,
 The blossoms sang.
 
 The stones sang,
 The little ones did,
 And the flowers jumped
 Like small goats.
 
 A ragged fringe
 Of daisys waved;
 I wasn’t alone
 In a grove of apples.
 
 Far in the wood
 A nestling sighed;
 The dew loosened
 Its morning smells.
 
 I came where the river
 Ran over stones:
 My ears knew
 An early joy.
 
 And all the waters
 Of all the streams
 Sang in my veins
 That summer day
In the Mountains on a Summer Day by Li Po
Gently I stir a white feather fan, 
With open shirt sitting in a green wood. 
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone; 
A wind from the pine-trees trickles on my bare head
IT’S HOT by Shel Silverstein
It’s hot!
I can’t get cool,
I’ve drunk a quart of lemonade.
I think I’ll take my shoes off
And sit around in the shade.

It’s hot!
My back is sticky.
The sweat rolls down my chin.
I think I’ll take my clothes off
And sit around in my skin.

It’s hot!
I’ve tried with ’lectric fans,
And pools and ice cream cones.
I think I’ll take my skin off
And sit around in my bones.

It’s still hot!
Summer Sun by Robert Louis Stevenson
 Great is the sun, and wide he goes 
 Through empty heaven without repose; 
 And in the blue and glowing days 
 More thick than rain he showers his rays.
 Though closer still the blinds we pull 
 To keep the shady parlour cool, 
 Yet he will find a chink or two 
 To slip his golden fingers through.
 The dusty attic spider-clad, 
 He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; 
 And through the broken edge of tiles, 
 Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
 Meantime his golden face around 
 He bares to all the garden ground, 
 And sheds a warm and glittering look
 Among the ivy's inmost nook.
 Above the hills, along the blue,
 Round the bright air with footing true,
 To please the child, to paint the rose, 
 The gardener of the World, he goes.
 The Breeze (author unknown)
 Summer breeze so softly blowing,
 In my garden pinks are growing;
 If you’ll go and send the showers,
 You may come and smell my flowers.
Rain in Summer by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 How beautiful is the rain!
 After the dust and heat,
 In the broad and fiery street,
 In the narrow lane,
 How beautiful is the rain!
 How it clatters along the roofs,
 Like the tramp of hoofs!
 
 How it gushes and struggles out
 From the throat of the over-flowing spout!
 Across the window pane
 It pours and pours;
 And swift and side,
 With a muddy tide,
 Like a river down the gutter roars
 The rain, the welcome rain!

End of Summer

A Boat Beneath the Sunny Sky by Lewis Carrol
 A boat beneath a sunny sky,
 Lingering onward dreamily
 In an evening of July —
 
 Children three that nestle near,
 Eager eye and willing ear,
 Pleased a simple tale to hear —
 
 Long has paled that sunny sky:
 Echoes fade and memories die:
 Autumn frosts have slain July.
 
 Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
 Alice moving under skies
 Never seen by waking eyes.
 
 Children yet, the tale to hear,
 Eager eye and willing ear,
 Lovingly shall nestle near.
 
 In a Wonderland they lie,
 Dreaming as the days go by,
 Dreaming as the summers die:
 
 Ever drifting down the stream —
 Lingering in the golden gleam —
 Life, what is it but a dream?
Sonnett 18 by William Shakespeare
 Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
 Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
 And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
 Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
 And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
 And every fair from fair sometime declines,
 By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
 But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
 Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
 Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
 When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
    So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
    So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
August by helen hunt jackson
Silence again. The glorious symphony
Hath need of pause and interval of peace.
Some subtle signal bids all sweet sounds cease,
Save hum of insects’ aimless industry.
Pathetic summer seeks by blazonry
Of color to conceal her swift decrease.
Weak subterfuge! Each mocking day doth fleece
A blossom, and lay bare her poverty.
Poor middle-agèd summer! Vain this show!
Whole fields of golden-rod cannot offset
One meadow with a single violet;
And well the singing thrush and lily know,
Spite of all artifice which her regret
Can deck in splendid guise, their time to go!

Poems with an * are contemporary poems.

Poetry and Summer Activities for Kids to do alongside your summer Poetry reading

Summer Acrostic Poetry – Write a Summer Acrostic Poem! – Children will love making their own original poems!

Easy and Fun Bee Activities for Kids – My friend Julie from Nature Inspired Learning created these great summer crafts and activities for kids. These Bee activities would be great to do after reading some summer poetry! Check our her website for even more summer crafts!

21 Amazing Summer Picture Books for Kids – Adding some picture books to your summer poetry reading would be a fun way to round out the learning! These books picked out from my friend Deirdre are the perfect compliment to these poems.

I hope you enjoyed this list of summer poems! Let me know which one is your favorite down in the comments.

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Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Julie

    July 15, 2021 at 5:49 pm

    Love these! I’ll have to print them out and take them with us when we play outside. I love the idea of having a picnic while reading them together.

    Reply
    • thisintentionalhome

      July 15, 2021 at 6:48 pm

      Oh good! And yes, we love doing picnics for our summer poetry tea time! I’m sure you guys will too.

      Reply
  2. Kayly

    July 15, 2021 at 9:11 pm

    Will definitely be using these ideas in our homeschool! Thanks for sharing!

    Reply
    • thisintentionalhome

      July 15, 2021 at 9:13 pm

      I’m so glad, you’re so welcome!!

      Reply

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Hi! I’m Stephanie. I’m a homeschool mom of 3, a voracious reader, lifelong learner and lover of all things warm and cozy. Come follow along on this journey of creating a beautiful, intentional life for me and my family. Read more about me here.

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