She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, That was not ours although we understood, Inhuman, of the veritable ocean. The sea was not a mask. No more
Shorter days, warm weather, vacations, and days of sun and the beach: June, July, and August (and the first few weeks of September) have inspired their fair share of summer poems. Browse our selection of poems about the summer season.