Open Windows

    Out of the window a sea of green trees Lift their soft boughs¹ like the arms of a dancer, They beckon² 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 sapphire³ 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.