Thursday, June 07, 2012

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 pool 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


I'd read the short story back in school, and remembered it often. There was something very very evocative about the last line, with the date repeating itself. 


There was also something equally evocative about the title, and when I read the original poem, I could see the singular feeling that both the poem and the story evoked. 

Was reminded of it today when I heard about Bradbury. 

The futility of it all. 

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