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.