Over the downs there were birds flying,
Far off glittered the sea,
And toward the north the weald of Sussex
Lay like a kingdom under me.
I was happier than the larks
That nest on the downs and sing to the sky,
Over the downs the birds flying
Were not so happy as I.
It was not you, though you were near,
Though you were good to hear and see,
It was not earth, it was not heaven
It was myself that sang in me.
— Sara Teasdale
I know you posted this quite a long time ago, but this particular poem (and Sara Teasdale) is one of my favorites and it brought me to your blog today. It reminds me that I am the person that needs to make myself happy and I should never rely on another person for that. Today I needed that reminder. Thank you for this post, though it’s over a year old.