There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swollws circling in their shimmering sound;
And frog 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 will mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
2007-05-28
01:51:38
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16 answers
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asked by
cleocat
5