Sara Teasdale — Open Windows

Out of the window a sea of green trees        &nbsp Lift their soft boughs like the arms of a dancer, They beckon and call me, "Come out in the sun!"        &nbsp But I cannot answer. I am alone with Weakness and Pain,        &nbsp Sick abed and June is going, I cannot keep her, she hurries by        &nbsp With the silver-green of her garments blowing. Men and women pass in the street        &nbsp Glad of the shining sapphire weather, But we know more of it than they,        &nbsp Pain and I together. They are the runners in the sun,        &nbsp Breathless and blinded by the race, But we are watchers in the shade        &nbsp Who speak with Wonder face to face.