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 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
Since the news has been a bit of gloom lately — just a reminder that whether the war takes ten years or twenty, some day it will be done.
3 thoughts on “There Will Come Soft Rains”
Humbling, indeed, IF reader will allow it!
“These ruinous wars… will end.” (Baha’u’llah)
And no, Nature doesn’t need us, God doesn’t NEED us, and Reality would scarce miss us if we left yesterday.
Ray Bradbury wrote a short story in reference to this poem, same title and I think the text of this poem appears in the story as well. I love it. A moving and humbling reminder.
Yes, I remember the story — it was very depressing, but at the same time you loved the loyalty of the robotic house wall still standing, the contrast between what man can achieve, and what he can in turn destroy.
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