A little story

There will come soft rains and smell of the ground.

And swallows circling the other there shimmering sound.

And frogs in the pool singing at night .

And will plum trees in tremulous white , Robins will wear their feathery fire .

Whistling their horns 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 down .

Would scarcely know that we were gone .