- August is a wicked month. Edna O’Brien
- Soft footed ants and meditative toads; Summer is passing, taking what she brings; Green scents and sounds and quick ephemeral wings. Babette Deutsch, In August
- Broad August burns in milky skies,The world is blanched with hazy heat; The vast green pasture, even, lies Too hot and bright for eyes and feet. William Canton
- Fairest of the months! Ripe summer's queen; The hey-day of the year With robes that gleam with sunny sheen Sweet August doth appear. R. Combe Miller
- In the parching August wind, Cornfields bow the head, Sheltered in round valley depths, On low hills outspread. Christina Rossetti
- Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar. William Faulkner
- In August, the large masses of berries, which, when in flower, had attracted many wild bees, gradually assumed their bright velvety crimson hue, and by their weight again bent down and broke their tender limbs. Henry David Thoreau
- Whilst August yet wears her golden crown, Ripening fields lush- bright with promise; Summer waxes long, then wanes, quietly passing; Her fading green glory on to riotous Autumn. Michelle L. Thieme, August's Crown
- August creates as she slumbers, replete and satisfied. Joseph Wood Krutch
- The brilliant poppy flaunts her head Amidst the ripening grain, And adds her voice to sell the song That August's here again. Helen Winslow
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