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 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.
Interpretation
This quote reflects on nature's indifference to human conflict and mortality.
Sara Teasdale's quote paints a vivid picture of the natural world thriving in beauty and life, while highlighting its indifference to human suffering and wars. It suggests that nature will continue to flourish regardless of our existence, making humanity's conflicts seem insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe. The imagery evokes a serene and harmonious world that remains untouched by human despair, reminding us of the resilience of nature even in the face of our own potential demise.
In practice
This quote could be used in a speech about environmental protection, emphasizing how nature thrives regardless of human issues.
As the waves of perfume, heliotrope, rose, _x000D_ _x000D_ Float in the garden when no wind blows, _x000D_ _x000D_ Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows; _x000D_ _x000D_ So the old tunes float in my mind, _x000D_ _x000D_ And go from me leaving no trace behind, _x000D_ _x000D_ Like fragrance borne on the hush of the wind.
From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.
I thought of you and how you love this beauty, And walking up the long beach all alone I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder As you and I once heard their monotone. Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -- We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me.
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.
I pledge allegiance to the soil _x000D_ of Turtle Island, _x000D_ and to the beings who thereon dwell _x000D_ one ecosystem _x000D_ in diversity _x000D_ under the sun _x000D_ With joyful interpenetratio n for all.
Nature has a great simplicity and therefore a great beauty.
Trees have a curious relationship to the subject of the present moment. There are many created things in the universe that outlive us, that outlive the sun, even, but I can't think about them. I live with trees.
The day, water, sun, moon, night - I do not have to purchase these things with money.
I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do.
There are no accidents, only nature throwing her weight around. Even the bomb merely releases energy that nature has put there. Nuclear war would be just a spark in the grandeur of space. Nor can radiation alter nature: she will absorb it all. After the bomb, nature will pick up the cards we have spilled, shuffle them, and begin her game again.
Subscribe for the occasional hand-picked quote. No noise.