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.