Prelude Lyrics

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