Mmmmmm
There will come
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.

Mmmmmm
There will come
There will come soft rains
and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
Ohhhhhh ahhhh
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
on a low fence-wire;
Mmmmmuuuhhhĥohhhahhh

With blossoms falling, nature's soft complaint
In every petal, a secret kept faint
Soothing winds whisper, the earth's own refrain
A lullaby for hearts that bear no chains

In this serene world, where the wild things play
The past fades gently, like a dream's soft sway