Sara Teasdale: Open Windows

Open Windows

Sara Teasdale

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