There Will Come Soft Rains

I adore "Life After People" on the History Channel. If anyone reading this has not seen it, the new season has just started. Check your local listings for day and times. If you haven't read the book- highly recommended. Perfect thing to read on a snowy, snowy day like today.

And for some reason, on this snowy, snowy day, I thought of this poem I read eons ago in Junior High. For some reason I felt like sharing it. I don't know why, but it echoes the way I feel today. Like everyone has indeed left, and it's just me, the last survivor of the human race, drinking hot chocolate, watching the snow fall, and when I die, so does humanity.



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, 1920)




(pictures from History Channel's Life After People)