Thursday, May 15, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
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 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 oneWill 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 dawnWould scarcely know that we were gone.
-- Sara Teasdale
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 oneWill 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 dawnWould scarcely know that we were gone.
-- Sara Teasdale
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