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 pool, singing at night.
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims.
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool, singing at night.
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims.
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