"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." -Sara Teasdale