THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS
by Sara Teasdale
(War Time)
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.
Exquisite
thank you
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In light of my rhymed couplets features and war poem on Friday, I found this both timely and moving.
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You’re welcome!
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I did think of you with the rhymed couplets!
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Now, that puts us into perspective, no? (A good thing, indeed).
jules, 7-Imp
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Sometimes we need to be reminded!
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I really like this poem! I love Spring and this is a good reminder that it will eventually come every year.
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Thanks for stopping by to read!
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I love Sara Teasdale. This one is particularly apt this spring.
Mary Lee
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Yes, glad you agree!
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