(August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933 / Missouri / United States)

There Will Come Soft Rain

There will come soft rain 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.

User Rating: 4,3 / 5 ( 52 votes ) 34

Comments (34)

great raining 10++++++++++++++++
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; //beautiful
Wow. Imagining the rain will wipe out the human species and not give a and just be like a spring time lark about it all.
' And wild plum trees in tremulous white; ' - just adored the language itself, here. ' And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone. ' - unfortunate poem, but very beautiful language. Very good read.
Cleaning up the battlefield after a skirmish is one sad forgotten job of war partially left to the poet.
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