• 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."