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 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.
