Poem 223 ± January 13, 2016

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.

sara-teasdaleSara Teasdale (1884–1933) was the author of several collections including Sonnets to Duse and Other Poems (1907), Helen of Troy and Other Poems (1911), Rivers to the Sea (1915), the Pulitzer Prize-winning Love Songs (1917), Flame and Shadow (1920), Dark of the Moon (1926), and Stars To-night (1930). She was born in St. Louis and moved to New York in 1916 where she lived until her death.

This poem appeared in Flame and Shadow.