Penny's Poetry Blog

In September  Spring scarce had greener fields to show than these  Of mid September; through the still warm noon  The rivulets ripple forth ...

  September           Sweet is the voice that calls           From the babbling waterfalls In meadows where the downy seeds are flying;   ...

Summer to Autumn  My leaves of green you will turn to gold and crimson,  My ripened fruits you will give their fullest hue,  And my scattere...

Summer And The Poet Poet: Oh! golden, golden Summer, What is it thou hast done? Thou hast chased each vernal roamer With thy fiercely burnin...

Green Here are the fruits, the flowers, the leaves, the wands, Here my heart that beats only for your sighs. Shatter them not with you...

Invitation to the Voyage Think, would it not be Sweet to live with me All alone, my child, my love? – Sleep together, share All thin...

Elegy in April and September ( jabbered among the trees )   1 Hush, thrush! Hush, missel-thrush, I listen . . . I heard the flush o...