Here’s my visual response to Sara Teasdale’s haunting “There Will Come Soft Rains.” In case it’s not entirely clear what’s going on in the background, it’s supposed to be a broken skyscraper overtaken by plant life. I was thinking of trying to draw more ruins, but I was honing in on the line “would scarcely know that we were gone,” suggesting less and less traces of humanity.
Yes, I know Ray Bradbury wrote a short story of the same name (which features the poem itself). It’s one of my favorites.
“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.