There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,


And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;



10 years ago…

And frogs in the pool singing at night,


And wild plum trees in tremulous white;



Something happened…

Robins will wear their feathery fire,


Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

That changed the world as we know forever…



And not one will know of the war, not one


Will care at last when it is done.



Billions were dead, but some strived…

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,


If mankind perished utterly;



To these few, it seemed as though nature had become angry at them and wanted them gone…

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

The problem is, we're not gone. Not yet…