The Antidote to Self Hate

Summer Morning by Rose Fyleman The air around was trembling-bright And full of dancing specks of light, While butterflies were dancing too Between the shining green and blue. I might not watch, I might not stay, I ran along the meadow way.   The straggling brambles caught my feet, The clover field was, oh! so sweet; I heard a singing in the sky, And busy things went buzzing by; And how it came I cannot tell, But all the hedges sang as well.   Along the clover-field I ran To where the little wood began,   And there I understood at last Why I had come so far, so fast On every leaf of every tree A fairy sat and smiled at me! © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes