Poem for the End of the World

A poem by Sara Teasdale

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 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. 

Do I really think the world is going to end tomorrow? No, I do not.
Do I believe that the world could end at any moment. Why, yes, I do.
Have I ever felt like my world was ending? Yes, I have. And I'll bet you have, too. And, no doubt, there are thousands of people for thousands of reasons feeling that way at any given moment.