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Miriam – Warrandyte, Melbourne, Australia

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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 by Sara Teasdale

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