There Will Come Soft Rains
（War Time）
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering1 sound；
And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum-trees in tremulous white；
Robins2 will wear their feathery fire Whistling their whims3 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 utterly4；
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.
