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.

                                  by Sara Teasdale (1920)


Collaborative art editions

Collaborative Art Editions - - T. 917.340.0073

© 2015 Collaborative Art Editions, LLC


There Will Come Soft Rains, 2015/16

Portfolio of 12 etchings plus colophon

Edition of 36

Presented in black linen clamshell box with embossed title

Call for availability