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Sprinkles

There Will Come Soft Rains
by Sara Teasdale

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.

wren ty

P MOUSE!
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       🐝  🐝 ·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸🐝 🐝
                                             🐝

sprinkles(*)v(*).

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Sprinkles

:-)

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     `·.                          .·´¨`·.
          `·.·´¨¯¨`·.       '·Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ   )
         .·´ )            `·.,¸_¸,.❤´   
       (_¸.·  ♥ Sprinkles if needed ♥
                     TY for visiting