September is that amazing month when the heat of summer starts to cool down and the breezy wind begins to kick in. Everywhere you go, the leaves appear more “golden” and life seems to get nicer. So if you happen to know someone who has a birthday during this lovely season, let’s wish them a perfect and memorable birthday by sending them these funny and inspiring poems for September birthdays.
We understand that sometimes it can be a bit difficult to come up with any ideas for preparing a birthday gift for someone. Especially when it comes to someone you love and care for a lot, you want to express how much you appreciate the relationship between you two and how much more special and amazed you want to make them feel on their birthdays. Besides preparing a great birthday gift, we believe handing them a meaningful birthday card, filled with beautiful birthday wishes, is one of the most brilliant ways to make their birthdays more exciting and unforgettable. That’s why we have collected some of the best funny and inspiring September birthday poems for you to pick from.
Let’s have a look closely through the list, and you will find funny and inspiring September birthday poems that suit the most for your beloved ones.
1, September, 1819 © William Wordsworth
Departing summer hath assumed
An aspect tenderly illumed,
The gentlest look of spring;
That calls from yonder leafy shade
Unfaded, yet prepared to fade,
A timely carolling.
No faint and hesitating trill,
Such tribute as to winter chill
The lonely redbreast pays!
Clear, loud, and lively is the din,
From social warblers gathering in
Their harvest of sweet lays …
2, September © Helen Hunt Jackson
The golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
The gentian’s bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest,
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side
Make asters in the brook …
3, September 1913 © W. B. Yeats
Yet could we turn the years again,
And call those exiles as they were
In all their loneliness and pain,
You’d cry, ‘Some woman’s yellow hair
Has maddened every mother’s son’:
They weighed so lightly what they gave.
But let them be, they’re dead and gone,
They’re with O’Leary in the grave …
4, September Birthday © Scorpio Rising
Her Birthday falls in September
Under the dreary clouds
Days are bright with her
Spreading love for
Miles and miles
Never hard to notice
So easy to remember
Her birthday falls in September
Brisk winds and orange leaves
Weddings, anniversaries and birthday’s
Out amongst the trees
A special time of year
For a special someone many hold dear
Not the kind to be forgotten
The kind you love to remember
Her birthday falls in September
5, September © Lucy Maud Montgomery
Lo! a ripe sheaf of many golden days
Gleaned by the year in autumn’s harvest ways,
With here and there, blood-tinted as an ember,
Some crimson poppy of a late delight
Atoning in its splendor for the flight
Of summer blooms and joys
This is September.
6, Sestina © Elizabeth Bishop
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,
It’s time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle’s small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac
on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.
It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
7, Beautiful © Sylvia Chidi
Honesty is beautiful
Kindness is beautiful
Intelligence is beautiful
Talent is beautiful
Beautiful is a romance with such abundance
Beautiful are the flowers that roam the earth
Beautiful is awaking to the sound of singing birds
Beautiful is a disguise
Playing hide and seek inside and outside
Beautiful is as naked as the rising sun
Beautiful is delightful and truthful
Beautiful is the golden daylight that shines
And the taste of sweet colored red wine
Beautiful was never ever created by mistake
Beautiful is the ingredient we bake life’s cake
When all or nothing is at stake
I am beautiful
You are beautiful
We are beautiful
Beautiful is great
Beautiful is sweet
Beautiful is love
Beautiful is power
Come to me Mr. & Mrs. Beautiful
Let me into your little secret
Of why you are so obedient and dutiful
8, September Midnight © Sara Teasdale
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer …
9, The Months © Sara Coleridge
January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daises at our feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy damns.
June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the children’s hand with posies.
Hot july brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.
August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.
Warm september brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasents,
Then to gather nuts is pleasent.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
10, Happy Blogging © Anonymous
May your heart rejoice
In knowing that ,on this day
The world become a brighter,
blessed, More beautiful place,
Because you were born….
And your life was shared
As a gift from God
To those who love you
And the world around you.
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