(Poem)

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 There will come soft rains

 

(War Time)

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

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools 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 no 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. 1912.

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