Open Windows

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Open Windows
by 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.


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