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Sick Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Open Windows by Sara Teasdale
  2. The Passing June by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse
  3. On a Restoration from Sickness by Eliza and Sarah Wolcott

  1. 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.

  2. The Passing June

    by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse

    I am shut in as June goes by,
    And can but see one little tree
    Tossing its new leaves to the sky
    With the old ecstasy.

    And of the sky itself I see
    Only a curving arc of blue,
    That brings the larkspur dawn to me
    And holds the evening true.

    I am shut in as June goes by,
    But every day you come to me,
    And I am glad to lose the sky
    And every dancing tree.

  3. On a Restoration from Sickness

    by Eliza and Sarah Wolcott

    In condescension, may the balm
    Of Gilead now appear,
    With strength'ning cords the mind to calm,
    And thus dispel all fear.

    Far belter light than sun-shine give,
    May we by seeking find;
    A sick-bed teaches us He lives,
    When we're to prayer inclin'd.

    Grateful to God and friends most kind,
    May we be ever found;
    Establish d faith adorn the mind,
    And every grace abound.

    Let harmony and love adorn
    Our few and fleeting days,
    And fit us for that glorious morn,
    When Christ himself arrays.

    When troubles rise, let us resort
    To the Physician, God,
    And hope and trust He'll bring to nought
    Obstructions in the road.

    Your sympathy for me bestow'd
    I yet remember well;
    And how my heart within me glow'd,
    When written accents fell.