The Months by 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,
To stir the dancing daffodil.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy dams.
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.
Warm September brings the fruit,
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.
Fresh October brings the pheasant,
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.
Dull November brings the blast,
Then the leaves are whirling fast.
Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
Sara Coleridge lived in the northern hemisphere in the nineteenth century — snow in January sounds strange to us! We’re sharing this poem as part of the Soup Blog Poetry Festival. Until the end of August we’ll be posting poems, interviews with children’s poets, tips for reading and writing poetry, and Poetry Prescriptions (poetry is good for the soul!).