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What man built up the wind and rain tore down The fields he cleared the jungle fought to reclaim Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree If all of mankind perished utterly There will come soft rains And the smell of the ground There will come soft rains And swallows circling with shimmering sound And wild plum trees in tremulous white Immersed in the chorus of singing at night There will come soft rains And not one will know of the war, not one... And Spring herself when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone From Letras Mania