There Will Come Soft Snow??

I've been saving this poem for months. Ideally, we would be experiencing a soft April shower.

There Will Come Soft Rains
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.

April 6, 1917, one hundred and one years ago today, Congress voted to declare war on Germany and enter into World War I.

Sara Teasdale's poem, imagining nature reclaiming a battlefield, was first published in July, 1918.

Soft rains and the smell of the ground would have been more welcome than snow.