There Will Come Soft Rains...... by Sara Teasdale

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and 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 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 wtterly;

And spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would Scarely know that we were gone.

By:    Sara Teasdale