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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 Teasdale (1884-1933)

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Solo sung by Krystel Dib

Music & Images by Dimitri Arnauts

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© Copyright 2020 Dimitri Arnauts. All rights reserved.

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