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.
The great war is coming!
The war to end all wars!
How the hell a war is to end war.
Can’t have wars when we’re all dying of nuclear fallout and/or nuclear explosion
So great that there will not be a need for another. (this time for sure)