re: #17 Targetpractice
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.- “There Will Come Soft Rains,” Sara Teasdale, 1920.