"There Will Come Soft Rains" -- Sara Teasdale
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool 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.
Perhaps it may turn out a sang,
Perhaps turn out a sermon.
-- R. Burns Epistle to a Young Friend
Perhaps turn out a sermon.
-- R. Burns Epistle to a Young Friend
Showing posts with label sara teasdale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sara teasdale. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
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