There will come soft rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

- Sara Teasdale, There will come soft rains

Comments: 0

Have something to say? Leave a comment.

Image




Your email will not be published nor shared with anyone. In your text you can use markdown for marking up *italic*, links <http://example.org> and other elements. These comments are moderated and published manually as soon as possible.