There Will Come Soft Rains Summary, Lesson Explanation, Word Meanings | ISC Class 12 English Prism Book

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ISC Class 12 English - There Will Come Soft Rains-Summary

 

There Will Come Soft Rains Summary and Explanation

ISC Class 12 English Chapter There Will Come Soft Rains Summary, Theme, Explanation along with Difficult Word Meanings from English Prism Book 

 

There Will Come Soft Rains Summary – Are you looking for the summary, theme and lesson explanation for ISC Class 12 English Prism Book (A Collection of ISC Short Stories) Chapter – There Will Come Soft Rains. Get Lesson summary, theme, explanation along with difficult word meanings.

 

ISC Class 12 English Chapter – There Will Come Soft Rains

By Ray Bradbury

 

There Will Come Soft Rains is a furniture story by Ray Bradbury set in the time following a nuclear war or other catastrophic event. It’s a futuristic story written in the year 1950, but set in the year 2026. The writer predicts technological advancements, disasters and how they impact human life and nature. In this story, a highly automated house continues with its daily routines even though its human occupants are gone. They have died due to an unknown disaster, probably a nuclear attack. The story takes place in Allendale, California, in 2026. The house serves as the main character and central focus of the story.

 

 

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There Will Come Soft Rains Summary

The story is set in an automated house on August 4, 2026, in Allendale, California. The house is completely empty but functions perfectly as if a family still lives there. At seven o’clock, a voice-clock sings to wake people up. In the kitchen, the breakfast stove automatically prepares a meal of toast, eggs, bacon, coffee, and milk for two people. Another voice announces the date, a birthday, an anniversary, and bills that are due.

At eight-one o’clock, the house calls for people to go to school and work, but no doors slam, and no footsteps are heard. The weather box on the front door quietly sings about rain. At eight-thirty, the uneaten breakfast is scraped into a sink and flushed away, and the dirty dishes are cleaned.

At nine-fifteen, tiny robot mice emerge from the walls to clean the entire house, sucking up dust and kneading the rugs, before disappearing back into their burrows.

By ten o’clock, the sun comes out, revealing that the house stands alone in a city of rubble and ashes. It is the only house left, and at night, the ruined city glows with radioactivity. On the charred west side of the house, where it had been burned, there are five clear silhouettes of a family: a man mowing a lawn, a woman picking flowers, a small boy with hands flung in the air, a thrown ball, and a girl with hands raised to catch it. These images are all that remain of the family, burned onto the house in an instant. The house itself is extremely self-protective, quivering at every sound and reacting to even a sparrow touching a window.

At twelve noon, a dog, once large but now bony and covered in sores, whines on the front porch. The door opens, and the dog enters, tracking mud. Angry cleaning mice follow it. The dog runs upstairs, yelping at closed doors, finally realizing that only silence fills the house. It then collapses and dies in the parlor.

At two o’clock, the robot mice emerge again, delicately sensing the decay, and remove the dog’s body. By two-fifteen, the dog is gone, incinerated in the cellar.

The house continues its routine: at two thirty-five, bridge tables and martinis appear on the patio for an afternoon gathering that never happens. At four o’clock, these items fold away. At four-thirty, the nursery walls glow, showing vibrant, cavorting animals in a fantasy jungle for children who are not there.

At five o’clock, the bath fills. The evening routine continues with dinner dishes being prepared and a cigar popping out in the study. At nine o’clock, the beds warm themselves.

At nine-five, a voice from the study ceiling asks Mrs. McClellan which poem she would like. Receiving no answer, it selects a poem by Sara Teasdale, There Will Come Soft Rains. The poem speaks of nature’s indifference to humanity’s demise, stating that even if mankind perished utterly, nature would scarcely know they were gone. The fire blazes, the cigar turns to ash, and the music plays to empty chairs.

At ten o’clock, the house begins to die. A falling tree branch crashes through the kitchen window, shattering cleaning solvent and instantly setting the room ablaze. The house screams “Fire!” and tries to fight back with flashing lights and water sprays, but the solvent spreads. Pumps fail, and the water supply runs out. The fire spreads rapidly through the house, consuming everything, including valuable artwork. Reinforcements of green chemical foam from the attic temporarily push back the fire, but an explosion shatters the attic’s control system. The fire rages uncontrollably, melting mirrors and causing the house to shudder and wail with its dying voices. The nursery burns, and animal images vanish. As the house collapses, automated voices continue to announce the time, cut the lawn, and read poetry, in a chaotic final display.

The house finally crashes down, leaving only smoke and silence. At dawn, only one wall remains standing among the rubble. From within this last wall, a single voice repeats the date, “Today is August 5, 2026, today is August 5, 2026, today is…” into the silence, as the sun rises over the destruction. The voice within the last wall functions fully automated and continues to do so although the occupants and the house have perished after the disaster.

 

Summary of the Lesson There Will Come Soft Rains in Hindi

कहानी 4 अगस्त, 2026 को एलेन्डेल, कैलिफोर्निया में एक स्वचालित घर में शुरू होती है।  घर पूरी तरह से खाली है लेकिन पूरी तरह से काम करता है जैसे कि एक परिवार अभी भी वहाँ रहता है।  सात बजे, लोगों को जगाने के लिए एक आवाज-घड़ी गाती है।  रसोईघर में, नाश्ते का चूल्हा स्वचालित रूप से दो लोगों के लिए टोस्ट, अंडे, बेकन, कॉफी और दूध का भोजन तैयार करता है।  एक अन्य आवाज तारीख, जन्मदिन, वर्षगांठ और देय बिलों की घोषणा करती है।

आठ-एक बजे, घर लोगों को स्कूल जाने और काम करने के लिए कहता है, लेकिन कोई दरवाजा नहीं खटखटाता है, और कोई कदम नहीं उठाता है।  सामने के दरवाजे पर मौसम बॉक्स चुपचाप बारिश के बारे में गाता है।  साढ़े आठ बजे, खाली नाश्ते को एक सिंक में फेंक दिया जाता है और दूर फेंक दिया जाता है, और गंदे व्यंजनों को साफ किया जाता है।

नौ-पंद्रह की उम्र में, छोटे रोबोट चूहे अपने बिलों में वापस गायब होने से पहले, धूल चूसते हुए और कालीनों को गूंथते हुए, पूरे घर को साफ करने के लिए दीवारों से बाहर निकलते हैं।

दस बजे तक, सूरज निकलता है, जिससे पता चलता है कि घर मलबे और राख के शहर में अकेला खड़ा है।  यह एकमात्र घर बचा है, और रात में, बर्बाद शहर रेडियोधर्मिता से चमकता है।  घर के जले हुए पश्चिम की ओर, जहां इसे जलाया गया था, एक परिवार के पांच स्पष्ट सिल्हूट हैंः एक आदमी एक लॉन काट रहा है, एक महिला फूल उठा रही है, एक छोटा लड़का हाथ हवा में फेंक रहा है, एक फेंका हुआ गेंद, और एक लड़की हाथ उठाकर उसे पकड़ने के लिए।  ये सभी चित्र परिवार के बचे हुए हैं, जो एक पल में घर पर जल गए।  घर अपने आप में बेहद आत्म-सुरक्षात्मक है, हर आवाज पर कांपता है और एक गौरैया के खिड़की को छूने पर भी प्रतिक्रिया करता है।

दोपहर बारह बजे, एक कुत्ता, जो कभी बड़ा था लेकिन अब हड्डी वाला और घावों से ढका हुआ है, सामने के बरामदे पर चिल्लाता है।  दरवाजा खुलता है, और कुत्ता मिट्टी का पीछा करते हुए प्रवेश करता है।  गुस्से में सफाई करने वाले चूहे इसका पीछा करते हैं।  कुत्ता ऊपर की ओर भागता है, बंद दरवाजों पर चिल्लाता है, अंत में महसूस करता है कि केवल खामोशी ही घर को भर देती है।  फिर यह गिर जाता है और पार्लर में मर जाता है।

दो बजे, रोबोट चूहे फिर से उभरते हैं, नाजुक ढंग से क्षय को महसूस करते हुए, और कुत्ते के शरीर को हटा देते हैं।  दो-पंद्रह बजे, कुत्ता चला जाता है, तहखाने में जला दिया जाता है।

घर अपनी दिनचर्या जारी रखता हैः दो पैंतीस बजे, दोपहर की सभा के लिए आँगन में ब्रिज टेबल और मार्टिनिस दिखाई देते हैं जो कभी नहीं होता है।  चार बजे ये सामान तहस-नहस हो जाते हैं।  साढ़े चार बजे, नर्सरी की दीवारें चमकती हैं, जो उन बच्चों के लिए एक काल्पनिक जंगल में जीवंत, गुहाओं वाले जानवरों को दिखाती हैं जो वहां नहीं हैं।

पाँच बजे स्नानागार भर जाता है।  शाम की दिनचर्या जारी रहती है जिसमें रात के खाने के व्यंजन तैयार किए जाते हैं और अध्ययन में एक सिगार निकलती है।  नौ बजे बिस्तर गर्म हो जाते हैं।

नौ-पाँच की उम्र में, अध्ययन छत से एक आवाज श्रीमती मैकक्लेलन से पूछती है कि उन्हें कौन सी कविता पसंद है।  कोई जवाब नहीं मिलने पर, यह सारा टीज़डेल की एक कविता का चयन करती है, “सॉफ्ट रेन्स आएंगी”।  कविता मानवता के पतन के प्रति प्रकृति की उदासीनता की बात करती है, जिसमें कहा गया है कि भले ही मानव जाति पूरी तरह से नष्ट हो जाए, प्रकृति को शायद ही पता होगा कि वे चले गए थे।  आग जलती है, सिगार राख में बदल जाता है, और संगीत खाली कुर्सियों पर बजता है।

दस बजे घर डूबने लगता है।  एक गिरने वाली पेड़ की शाखा रसोई की खिड़की से टकरा जाती है, सफाई विलायक को तोड़ देती है और तुरंत कमरे में आग लगा देती है।  घर चिल्लाता है “आग!” और चमकती रोशनी और पानी के स्प्रे के साथ वापस लड़ने की कोशिश करता है, लेकिन विलायक फैलता है।  पंप विफल हो जाते हैं और पानी की आपूर्ति समाप्त हो जाती है।  आग तेजी से पूरे घर में फैलती है, जिसमें कीमती कलाकृतियों सहित सब कुछ जल जाता है।  अटारी से हरे रासायनिक फोम के सुदृढ़ीकरण अस्थायी रूप से आग को पीछे धकेलते हैं, लेकिन एक विस्फोट अटारी के नियंत्रण प्रणाली को तोड़ देता है।  आग अनियंत्रित रूप से भड़कती है, शीशे पिघलते हैं और घर को कांप देता है और अपनी मरती हुई आवाज़ों से रोता है।  नर्सरी जलती है, और जानवरों की छवियाँ गायब हो जाती हैं।  जैसे-जैसे घर ढहता है, स्वचालित आवाजें एक अराजक अंतिम प्रदर्शन में समय की घोषणा करना, लॉन को काटना और कविता पढ़ना जारी रखती हैं।

घर अंततः दुर्घटनाग्रस्त हो जाता है, जिससे केवल धुआं और सन्नाटा रह जाता है।  भोर में, मलबे के बीच केवल एक दीवार खड़ी रहती है।  इस अंतिम दीवार के भीतर से, एक आवाज उस तारीख को दोहराती है, “आज 5 अगस्त, 2026 है, आज 5 अगस्त, 2026 है, आज है”… मौन में, जैसे ही सूरज विनाश पर उगता है।

 

Theme of the Lesson There Will Come Soft Rains

The Indifference of Technology to Humanity’s Absence
A central theme is the idea that technology, once created to serve humanity, can continue to function perfectly even after its creators are gone. The automated house goes through its daily routine, preparing meals, cleaning, and providing entertainment, completely unaware that the family it was built for has been annihilated. The clocks sing, the voices speak, and the robot mice clean, all in an empty space. This highlights a chilling separation between a tool and its purpose once its user is gone, suggesting that technology will continue to exist and operate in a cold, mindless fashion.

 

The Fragility and Self-Destruction of Humanity
The story strongly suggests that humanity’s demise was self-inflicted. The city is a ruin of rubble and ashes, and the silent house stands as a monument to a nuclear war. The chilling silhouettes of the family on the charred wall reveal the instant and violent end of human life. This theme serves as a powerful warning about the destructive potential of human conflict and technology, suggesting that humanity’s advanced creations led directly to its own utter destruction.

 

Nature’s Indifference and Endurance
The title of the story is taken from a poem by Sara Teasdale, which is read aloud by the house. This poem and the surrounding natural imagery reinforce the theme of nature’s indifference to human existence. The poem states that even if mankind perished utterly, nature would not care or even notice. The story supports this by showing the natural world continuing on: the sun rises, the sprinklers run, and the wind blows, completely unconcerned with the tragedy. The house’s final battle with the fire, which is aided by the natural elements of wind and a falling tree bough, further emphasizes that nature, in its powerful and unfeeling way, will reclaim what humanity has lost. The story concludes with a single voice from the ruins, but it is nature’s dawn that shines upon the destruction, showing that life will go on without us.

 

The Paradox of Safety and Destruction
The house is designed to be a fortress of safety and comfort. It is filled with self-protective mechanisms, from its password inquiries to its cleaning rats and fire-fighting systems. However, this very complex system, built to protect its inhabitants from the outside world, is ultimately destroyed by a simple accident: a falling tree bough and cleaning solvent that had been bottled inside. This theme explores the paradox that even the most meticulously designed systems of safety can be undermined by a simple flaw or accident, and that sometimes the greatest dangers can come from within rather than from the outside.

 

There Will Come Soft Rains Lesson Explanation

Passage : In the living room the voice-clock sang, Tick-tock, seven o’clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven o’clock! as if it were afraid that nobody would. The morning house lay empty. The clock ticked on, repeating and repeating its sounds into the emptiness. Seven-nine, breakfast time, seven-nine!
In the kitchen the breakfast stove gave a hissing sigh and ejected from its warm interior eight pieces of perfectly browned toast, eight eggs sunny side up, sixteen slices of bacon, two coffees, and two cool glasses of milk.
“Today is August 4, 2026,” said a second voice from the kitchen ceiling, “in the city of Allendale, California.” It repeated the date three times for memory’s sake. “Today is Mr. Featherstone’s birthday. Today is the anniversary of Tilita ́s marriage. Insurance is payable, as are the water, gas, and light bills.”
Somewhere in the walls, relays clicked, memory tapes glided under electric eyes.
Eight-one, tick-tock, eight-one o’clock, off to school, off to work, run, run, eight-one! But no doors slammed, no carpets took the soft tread of rubber heels. It was raining outside. The weather box on the front door sang quietly: “Rain, rain, go away; umbrellas, raincoats for today. ..” And the rain tapped on the empty house, echoing.

Word Meanings
hissing: to produce a sound like a long ‘s’ sound like the sound made by the stove
ejected: pushed something out of a place
relays: electrical switches that open and close circuits.
memory tapes: a magnetic tape that stores data and programmes
glided: moved slowly without any noise
electric eyes: a device that detects objects or people using a beam of light.
slammed: shut doors with loud noise and great force
tread: walk
tapped: knocked lightly and quickly.
echoing: making or sending back a sound repeatedly

Explanation of the above passage—In the living room of a fully-automated house, an automated clock rang an alarm and spoke out the time, indicating it was seven o’clock and time to get up, as if it was worried that no one would. The house was empty that morning. The clock continued its ticking sounds into the silence. At seven-nine, it announced that it was breakfast time. In the kitchen, the breakfast stove let out a soft sigh and automatically produced a meal of eight pieces of perfectly browned toast, eight sunny-side-up eggs, sixteen slices of bacon, two coffees, and two cool glasses of milk. From the kitchen ceiling, a second voice announced that it was August 4, 2026, in the city of Allendale, California. It repeated the date three times for the sake of memory. The voice also mentioned the various engagements like it was Mr. Featherstone’s birthday and the anniversary of Tilita’s marriage. It added that insurance and all the water, gas, and light bills were due to be paid. Somewhere inside the walls, parts clicked and memory tapes moved under electric sensors. At eight-one o’clock, the clock again sang that it was time to go to school and work. But no doors closed loudly, and no soft footsteps were heard on the carpets. It was raining outside. The weather box on the front door quietly sang a little rhyme about the rain and advised that umbrellas and raincoats should be used for the day. The rain tapped against the empty house, and the sound echoed.

 

Passage: Outside, the garage chimed and lifted its door to reveal the waiting car. After a long wait the door swung down again.
At eight-thirty the eggs were shrivelled and the toast was like stone. An aluminium wedge scraped them into the sink, where hot water whirled them down a metal throat which digested and flushed them away to the distant sea. The dirty dishes were dropped into a hot washer and emerged twinkling dry.
Nine-fifteen, sang the clock, time to clean.
Out of warrens in the wall, tiny robot mice darted. The rooms were a crawl with the small cleaning animals, all rubber and metal. They thudded against chairs, whirling their moustached runners, kneading the rug nap, sucking gently at hidden dust Then, like mysterious invaders, they popped into their burrows Their pink electric eyes faded. The house was clean.
Ten o’clock. The sun came out from behind the rain. The house stood alone in a city of rubble and ashes. This was the one house left standing. At night the ruined city gave off a radioactive glow which could be seen for miles.

Word Meanings
chimed: made a musical sound; here, the sound produced when the door of the garage was opened.
Swung down: Moved downward on a hinge or pivot.
shrivelled: wrinkled and shrunken due to the loss of moisture.
scraped: removed something from the surface by using a sharp edged instrument
whirled: turned in a twisting or spinning motion
Twinkling dry: Sparkling and completely dry.
warrens: small crowded spaces; here, little holes in the wall from where tiny robot mice moved in and out quickly
Darted: Moved suddenly and quickly in a particular direction.
Crawl: To move slowly with the body close to the ground
thudded: hit or banged into something
Moustached runners: A descriptive phrase for the spinning brush-like parts of the robot mice, which resembled a moustache.
Kneading the rug nap: Massaging or pressing the soft, raised fibers of the rug.
Burrows: A hole or tunnel dug by a small animal for shelter like the openings in the wall where the robot mice hid.
Rubble: The remains of a building or buildings, typically after a natural disaster or destruction.
radioactive glow: the light emitted by radioactive substances after the town was hit by an atomic bomb

Explanation of the above passage— Outside, the garage door made a chiming sound and opened to show the car waiting inside. After a long time passed with no one getting in the car, the door closed again. At eight-thirty, the eggs had shriveled, and the toast was as hard as stone, they were not eaten and so, an aluminum scraper pushed the food into the sink, where hot water spun it down a pipe that was described as a metal throat which broke down and flushed it away to the faraway sea. The dirty dishes were then dropped into a hot washer and came out sparkling and dry. The clock sang that it was nine-fifteen, and time to clean. Tiny robot mice darted out from small openings in the wall. The rooms were filled with these little cleaning animals made of rubber and metal. They bumped against chairs, spun their brushes, massaged the rug fibers, and gently sucked up any hidden dust. Then, they returned to their burrows like mysterious invaders, and their pink electric eyes went dark. The house was clean. At ten o’clock, the sun appeared from behind the rain clouds. The house stood by itself in a city of rubble and ashes. It was the only house still standing. The destroyed city gave off a radioactive glow at night that could be seen from many miles away.

 

Passage: Ten-fifteen. The garden sprinklers whirled founts, filling the soft morning air with scatterings of brightness. up in golden The water pelted window panes, running down the charred west side where the house had been burned, evenly free of its white paint. The entire west face of the house was black, save for five places. Here the silhouette in paint of a man mowing a lawn. Here, as in a photograph, a woman bent to pick flowers. Still farther over, their images burned on wood in one titanic instant, a small boy, hands flung into the air; higher up, the image of a thrown ball, and opposite him a girl, hands raised to catch a ball which never came down.
The five spots of paint – the man, the woman, the children, the ball – remained. The rest was a thin charcoaled layer.
The gentle sprinkler rain filled the garden with falling light.

Word Meanings
whirled founts: Sprinklers that spun around, creating streams of water that looked like fountains.
scatterings of brightness: Small, sparkling drops of water catching the light.
pelted: Struck or hit with a rapid succession of objects, in this case, water drops.
charred: badly burnt and blackened
silhouette: outline of a figure, filled with a solid colour
Bent: Leaned forward and downward.
Titanic instant: A huge, powerful, or very quick moment.
Fling: Throw or hurl forcefully.
Charcoaled layer: A thin layer of a black, carbon substance that is left after something is burned.
Falling light: A description of the way the sunlight looks as it hits the falling water from the sprinklers.

Explanation of the above passage—At ten-fifteen, the garden’s sprinklers sent up streams of water, which filled the peaceful morning air with bright splashes of light. The water struck the windows and ran down the black, burnt west side of the house, whose paint had been damaged. The entire west face of the house was black, except for five specific places. In one spot was the outline of a man mowing the lawn. In another, like a photograph, was the shape of a woman bending down to pick flowers. Further over, the images of a small boy with his hands thrown into the air, and above him, a thrown ball, were also burned into the wood in one powerful instant. Across from him was a girl with her hands raised to catch the ball, which never fell. These five shapes of the man, woman, children, and the ball which remained, while the rest was just a thin layer of charcoal. The gentle, falling water from the sprinklers made the garden seem full of light.

 

Passage: Until this day, how well the house had kept its peace. How carefully it had inquired, “Who goes there? What’s the password?” and, getting no answer from lonely foxes and whining cats, it had shut up its windows and drawn shades in an old-maidenly preoccupation with self-protection which bordered on a mechanical paranoia.
It quivered at each sound, the house did. If a sparrow brushed a window, the shade snapped up. The bird, startled, flew off! No, not even a bird must touch the house!
Twelve noon.
A dog whined, shivering, on the front porch.
The front door recognized the dog voice and opened. The dog, once huge and fleshy, but now gone to bone and covered with sores, moved in and through the house, tracking mud. Behind it whirred angry mice, angry at having to pick up mud, angry at inconvenience.

Word Meanings
inquired: To ask for information from someone.
old-maidenly: Resembling or characteristic of an elderly, unmarried woman suggesting an overly cautious, fussy, and solitary nature.
preoccupation: The state or condition of being engrossed with something; an obsessive focus.
paranoia: a feeling of fear and suspicion of other people
quivered: trembled with fear
snapped up: closed
startled: surprised and slightly frightened
fleshy: having a substantial amount of flesh; plump
sores: an open, painful, or infected wound.
whirred: made a low, continuous sound
inconvenience: trouble or difficulty; a slight bother.

Explanation of the above passage—Up until that day, the house had been very good at keeping itself safe. It had carefully asked who was there and what the password was. When it received no answers from lonely foxes and whining cats, it would close its windows and pull down its shades. This behavior was described as an overly cautious self-protection, almost like a mechanical feeling of paranoia. The house would tremble at every sound. If a sparrow brushed against a window, the shade would snap up, and the bird, startled, would fly away. The house seemed to think that not even a bird should touch it. At twelve noon, a shivering dog whined on the front porch. The front door recognized the dog’s voice and opened. The dog, which had once been large and full of flesh, was now just bones and covered in sores. It moved into and through the house, leaving mud tracks. Behind it, angry robot mice whirred, annoyed that they had to clean up the mud and bothered by the inconvenience.

 

Passage: For not a leaf fragment blew under the door but what the wall panels flipped open and the copper scrap rats flashed swiftly out. The offending dust, hair, or paper, seized in miniature steel jaws, was raced back to the burrows. There, down tubes which fed into the cellar, it was dropped into the sighing vent of an incinerator which sat like evil Baal in a dark corner.
The dog ran upstairs, hysterically yelping to each door, at last realizing, as the house realized, that only silence was here.
It sniffed the air and scratched the kitchen door. Behind the door, the stove was making pancakes which filled the house with a rich baked odour and the scent of maple syrup.
The dog frothed at the mouth, lying at the door, sniffing, its eyes turned to fire. It ran wildly in circles, biting at its tail, spun in a frenzy, and died. It lay in the parlor for an hour.
Two o’clock, sang a voice.
Delicately sensing decay at last, the regiments of mice hummed out as softly as blown gray leaves in an electrical wind.
Two-fifteen.
The dog was gone.

Word Meanings
Leaf fragment: a very small piece of a leaf.
Copper scrap rats: Tiny robot machines made of copper, shaped like rats, that collect dirt and debris.
Offending: unwanted or a nuisance.
Miniature: very small.
Sighing vent: The opening of the incinerator that makes a soft, low sound, like a sigh, as it burns things.
incinerator: a device for burning trash, garbage, etc.
Baal: Lord, master or king; here, it is an allusion to the demon, who was the first Principal King of Hell
hysterically: in an uncontrolled way
yelping: Barking or crying out in a wild
sniffed: smelled something
frothed: produced a mass of small white bubbles
frothed at the mouth: A white, foamy substance came from its mouth, a sign of extreme distress or illness.
spun in a frenzy: Turned or twirled around wildly and in a state of great excitement or panic.
regiments: army unit smaller than a division; here, a troop or a group.

Explanation of the above passage—Whenever even a small piece of a leaf was blown under the door, the wall panels would open, and tiny cleaning machines shaped like copper rats would flash out quickly. These machines would seize any unwanted dust, hair, or paper in their small steel jaws and race back to their hiding places. From there, the debris was dropped down tubes into the cellar, where it fell into a sighing incinerator. This incinerator sat like an evil statue in a dark corner. The dog ran upstairs, barking hysterically at each closed door, finally realizing, just as the house seemed to realize, that there was only silence. It sniffed the air and scratched at the kitchen door. Inside, behind the door, the stove was cooking pancakes, filling the house with the rich smell of baked goods and maple syrup. The dog lay at the door, sniffing, and a white foam formed around its mouth. Its eyes looked like they were on fire. It ran around in frantic circles, biting at its own tail, and then, in a wild fit, it died. The dog’s body lay in the living room for an hour. A voice sang that it was two o’clock. Finally sensing that the dog’s body was decaying, the groups of robot mice came out quietly, like gray leaves blown by an electric wind. At two-fifteen, the decayed body of the dog was taken into the cellar, where it was burned to ash.

 

Passage: In the cellar, the incinerator glowed suddenly and a whirl of sparks leaped up the chimney.
Two thirty-five.
Bridge tables sprouted from patio walls. Playing cards fluttered onto pads in a shower of pips.
Martinis manifested on an oaken bench with egg-salad sandwiches. Music played.
But the tables were silent and the cards untouched.
At four o’clock the tables folded like great butterflies back through the paneled walls.
Four-thirty.
The nursery walls glowed.

Word Meanings
whirl of sparks: A spinning or swirling movement of small, bright flashes of fire.
sprouted: Grew or emerged suddenly and quickly, like a plant.
patio walls: The walls surrounding an outdoor seating area.
fluttered: Moved with a quick, light, and irregular motion, like a butterfly’s wings.
pips: The symbols on playing cards like spades, hearts, clubs, and diamondsor the spots on dice.
manifested: Appeared or showed up suddenly.
oaken bench: A bench made from oak wood.
paneled walls: Walls covered with flat, rectangular pieces of wood.
nursery: A room in a house set aside for the care and entertainment of young children.

Explanation of the above passage— In the cellar, the incinerator suddenly began to glow, and a swirling group of sparks shot up the chimney. At two thirty-five, bridge tables popped out of the patio walls. Playing cards fluttered down onto pads, with their symbols and numbers showing. Martini drinks and egg-salad sandwiches suddenly appeared on a bench made of oak wood. Music began to play. However, the tables were quiet, and the cards were not touched, indicating the missing humans in the house. At four o’clock, the tables folded up like large butterflies and disappeared back into the paneled walls. At four-thirty, the nursery walls began to glow.

 

Passage: Animals took shape: yellow giraffes, blue lions, pink antelopes, lilac panthers cavorting in crystal substance. The walls were glass. They looked out upon color and fantasy. Hidden films clocked through well-oiled sprockets, and the walls lived. The nursery floor was woven to resemble a crisp, cereal meadow. Over this ran aluminum roaches and iron crickets, and in the hot still air butterflies of delicate red tissue wavered among the sharp aroma of animal spoors! There was the sound like a great matted yellow hive of bees within a dark bellows, the lazy bumble of a purring lion. And there was the patter of okapi feet and the murmur of a fresh jungle rain, like other hoofs, falling upon the summer-starched grass. Now the walls dissolved into distances of parched grass, mile on mile, and warm endless sky. The animals drew away into thorn brakes and water holes. It was the children’s hour.
Five o’clock. The bath filled with clear hot water.
Six, seven, eight o’clock. The dinner dishes manipulated like magic tricks, and in the study a click.

Word Meanings
cavorting: leaping about
crystal substance: A clear, glass-like material.
sprockets: Wheels with teeth that engage with the holes in a film or tape, causing it to move.
crisp, cereal meadow: A field or lawn that looks and feels dry and crunchy, like breakfast cereal.
aluminum roaches and iron crickets: Robot insects made from aluminum and iron.
spoors: The tracks, scents, or droppings of an animal.
matted: Tangled into a thick mass.
bellows: A device with an airbag that takes in and expels air, often used to blow air into a fire or an organ.
patter: A series of quick, light sounds.
Okapi: an African animal related to a giraffe but with a much shorter neck.
starched: Made stiff or firm.
dissolved: Changed or faded away.
parched: Very dry.
thorn brakes: Thick patches of thorny bushes.
manipulated: Handled or controlled with skill.

Explanation of the above passage—Virtual animals began to appear on the nursery walls: yellow giraffes, blue lions, pink antelopes, and purple panthers playing happily in a crystal-like substance. The walls were made of glass, showing a world of color and fantasy. Hidden films were running through well-oiled sprockets, making the walls come to life. The floor of the nursery was woven to look like a crunchy meadow of cereal. Over this meadow, aluminum roaches and iron crickets ran, and in the warm, still air, delicate red butterflies fluttered among the strong smell of animal tracks. There was a sound like a large, tangled yellow beehive inside a dark wind instrument, and the low, soft humming of a lion. There was also the sound of okapi feet pattering and the quiet sound of a new jungle rain, like other hooves, falling on the stiff, dry summer grass. Then, the walls changed, showing a view of endless, dry grass and a warm sky. The animals moved away into thorny bushes and toward water holes. It was the time for the children to be entertained. At five o’clock, the bathtub filled with clear, hot water. At six, seven, and eight o’clock, the dinner dishes were prepared as if by magic. A clicking sound was heard in the study.

 

Passage: In the metal stand opposite the hearth where a fire now blazed up warmly, a cigar popped out, half an inch of soft gray ash on it, smoking, waiting.
Nine o’clock. The beds warmed their hidden circuits, for nights were cool here.
Nine-five. A voice spoke from the study ceiling: “Mrs. McClellan, which poem would you like this evening?” The house was silent.
The voice said at last, “Since you express no preference, I shall select a poem at random.”
Quiet music rose to back the voice. “Sara Teasdale. As I recall, your favourite…
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.”

Word Meanings
hearth: The area in front of a fireplace, often made of stone or brick.
blazed up: Burned brightly and strongly.
hidden circuits: Electrical wires or systems concealed within something, like the beds.
verbatim: Using the exact same words as the original.
swallows circling with their shimmering sound: Birds flying in circles, making a soft, sparkling sound with their movements.
tremulous: trembling; fearful or timid.
feathery fire: A poetic way of describing the bright, fiery red color of a robin’s feathers.
whistling their whims: Making playful, spontaneous whistling sounds.
perished utterly: Died out completely and totally.
scarcely know: Barely or hardly be aware of something.

Explanation of the above passage— A cigar, with a small amount of soft gray ash already on it, came out of a metal stand opposite the fireplace, where a fire was burning warmly. It was waiting, smoking. A voice announced that it was nine o’clock. The beds were warming up their hidden electrical parts, because the nights were cool. At nine-five, a voice from the study ceiling asked Mrs. McClellan what poem she would like that evening. The house was completely silent. Finally, the voice said that because she did not state a preference, it would choose a poem randomly. Quiet music began playing behind the voice, which then announced that the poem was by Sara Teasdale and that it was her favorite. The poem read: There will come gentle rains and the smell of the ground, and birds will fly in circles with their beautiful sounds. Frogs will sing in the pools at night, and wild plum trees will be in a trembling white color. Robins will look like they are on fire with their red feathers, and will whistle their playful tunes on a low fence wire. Not a single bird or tree will know about the war, or care that it is finished. No one in nature would mind at all, if mankind had died out completely. And Spring, when she woke up at dawn, would barely know that we were gone.

 

Passage: The fire burned on the stone hearth and the cigar fell away into a mound of quiet ash on its tray. The empty chairs faced each other between the silent walls, and the music played.
At ten o’clock the house began to die.
The wind blew. A falling tree bough crashed through the kitchen window. Cleaning solvent, bottled, shattered over the stove. The room was ablaze in an instant!
“Fire!” screamed a voice. The house lights flashed, water shot water from the ceilings. But the solvent spread in the linoleum, licking, eating, under the kitchen door, while the Pumps voices took it up in chorus: “Fire, fire, fire!”
The house tried to save itself. Doors sprang tightly shut, but the windows were broken by the heat and the wind blew and sucked upon the fire.

Word Meanings
Mound: A pile or heap.
Cleaning Solvent: Cleaning solvents are chemicals designed to dissolve or remove dirt, grease, and other contaminants from surfaces. As it’s inflammation, it intensified the fire.
Ablaze: On fire; burning fiercely.
Licking, eating: A figurative description of how the fire was spreading and consuming the linoleum.
Pumps: Mechanical devices used to push water.
Chorus: A group of people speaking or singing together.
sprang: Jumped or moved quickly and suddenly.
sucked upon: A figurative way of saying that the wind was feeding the fire, making it stronger.

Explanation of the above passage—The fire continued to burn in the stone fireplace, and the cigar eventually collapsed into a pile of ash on its tray. Empty chairs sat facing each other in the silent rooms, and music played. At ten o’clock, the house began to die. The wind was blowing strongly. A falling tree branch crashed through the kitchen window, shattering a bottle of chemical which is used for cleaning dirt or contaminated surfaces over the stove, since the chemical was inflammable, it intensified the fire. Instantly, the room was on fire. A voice screamed that there was a fire. The house’s lights flashed, and water shot out from the ceilings. But the solvent spread across the floor, burning and consuming the linoleum, moving under the kitchen door. At the same time, the voices of the water pumps joined together, shouting in a chorus that there was a fire. The house tried to save itself. Doors quickly and tightly shut, but the intense heat broke the windows, and the wind blew in, feeding the flames.

 

Passage: The house gave ground as the fire in ten billion angry sparks moved with flaming ease from room to room and then up the stairs. While scurrying water rats squeaked from the walls, pistolled their water, and ran for more. And the wall sprays let down showers of mechanical rain.
But too late. Somewhere, sighing, a pump shrugged to a stop. The quenching rain ceased. The reserve water supply which had filled baths and washed dishes for many quiet days was gone.
The fire crackled up the stairs. It fed upon Picassos and Matisses in the upper halls, like delicacies, baking off the oily flesh, tenderly crisping the canvases into black shavings.
Now the fire lay in beds, stood in windows, changed the colors of drapes!
And then, reinforcements. From attic trapdoors, blind robot faces peered down with faucet mouths gushing green chemical.
The fire backed off, as even an elephant must at the sight of a dead snake.
Now there were twenty snakes whipping over the floor, killing the fire with a clear cold venom of green froth.

Word Meanings
Gave ground: To retreat or lose a position in a fight.
scurrying: running quickly with short steps.
squeaked: made high shrill cry or sound
Scratched: To make a harsh, crackling sound.
Pistolled their water: To shoot or spray water forcefully, like from a pistol.
Quenching: Putting out or extinguishing
Reserve water supply: A stored amount of water set aside for later use.
Fed upon: To eat or consume something.
Delicacies: Rare and expensive foods.
Oily flesh: the oil-based paint on the canvases.
Crisping: To make something dry and brittle.
Canvases: Strong cloth used as a surface for oil painting.
Shavings: Thin, curled slices of something.
Reinforcements: Extra support or help in a difficult situation.
Attic: a space or room inside or partly inside the roof of a building.
Attic trapdoors: A small, secret door in the floor or ceiling of an attic.
Gushing: To flow out rapidly and in large amounts.
Venom: A poisonous substance, a chemical foam that kills the fire.
Froth: A mass of small bubbles in a liquid; foam.

Explanation of the above passage—The house began to lose the fight as the fire, creating countless angry sparks, spread easily from one room to another and then up the stairs. At the same time, small robot water rats came running out of the walls, spraying water from their nozzles and then running to get more water. The wall sprays also released showers of mechanical rain. But it was too late. Somewhere, a pump stopped with a sigh, and the water that was putting out the fire stopped flowing. The house’s reserve water, which had been used to fill baths and wash dishes for many quiet days, had finished. The fire made crackling sounds as it spread the stairs. It burned paintings by famous artists like Picasso and Matisse in the upstairs hallways as if they were special food, baking the paint and turning the canvases into thin, black pieces. The fire now filled beds, stood in windows, and changed the colors of the curtains. Then, more help arrived. From secret trapdoors in the attic, blind robot faces with faucet-like mouths peered down, gushing a green chemical foam. The fire pulled back, just as even a large elephant would at the sight of a dead snake. There were now twenty of these snakes of green froth moving over the floor, using their clear, cold chemical foam to kill the fire.

 

Passage: But the fire was clever. It had sent flame outside the house, up through the attic to the pumps there. An explosion! The attic brain which directed the pumps was shattered into bronze shrapnel on the beams.
The fire rushed back into every closet and felt of the clothes hung there.
The house shuddered, oak bone on bone, its bared skeleton cringing from the heat, its wire, its nerves revealed as if a surgeon had torn the skin off to let the red veins and capillaries quiver in the scalded air. Help, help! Fire! Run, run! Heat snapped mirrors like the first brittle winter ice. And the voices wailed. Fire, fire, run, run, like a tragic nursery rhyme, a dozen voices, high, low, like children dying in a forest, alone, alone. And the voices fading as the wires popped their sheathings like hot chestnuts. One, two, three, four, five voices died.
In the nursery the jungle burned. Blue lions roared, purple giraffes bounded off. The panthers ran in circles, changing color, and ten million animals, running before the fire, vanished off toward a distant steaming river…. Ten more voices died.

Word Meanings
Attic brain: A metaphorical term for the control center in the attic that directs the house’s automated systems.
Shattered: Broke into many small pieces.
Bronze shrapnel: Sharp, flying pieces of bronze, usually from an explosion.
Shuddered: Shook violently.
Oak: hardwood tree used in construction or furniture-making.
Oak bone on bone: the wooden structure of the house, like oak beams, rubbing against each other, sounding like bones.
Bared skeleton: The exposed wooden or metal frame of the house.
Cringing: Bending one’s body in fear.
Scalded: Burned with hot liquid or steam; here, intensely heated.
Wailed: Cried out in a long, high-pitched, mournful sound.
Nursery rhyme: A simple traditional song or poem for children.
sheathings: protective coverings
Fading: Becoming less loud or clear.
Bounded off: Ran or jumped away.
Vanished: Disappeared suddenly and completely.
Steaming river: A river from which vapor is rising, possibly a result of the intense heat from the fire.

Explanation of the above passage— However, the fire was smart. It had sent flames outside the house and up through the attic to where the water pumps were located. There was an explosion! The attic’s control center, which managed the pumps, was destroyed and broke into bronze pieces. The fire rushed back inside and into every closet, touching and consuming the clothes hanging there. The house shook, its wooden frame rattling against itself. Its bare metal skeleton seemed to shrink from the heat, and its wires and nerves were exposed, as if a doctor had torn off the skin to reveal the red veins and tiny blood vessels trembling in the hot air. A desperate cry for “Help! Fire! Run!” came from the house’s voices. The intense heat shattered the mirrors just like thin winter ice. The voices wailed, repeating “Fire, fire, run, run,” like a tragic nursery rhyme, with many voices, both high and low, sounding like children dying alone in a forest. The voices began to fade as the wires snapped out of their coverings, sounding like hot chestnuts popping. One by one, five voices went silent. Inside the nursery, the virtual jungle was on fire. Blue lions roared, and purple giraffes ran away. Panthers ran in circles, changing color, and millions of other animals, running from the fire, disappeared toward a distant, steaming river. Ten more voices went silent.

 

Passage: In the last instant under the fire avalanche, other choruses, oblivious, could be heard announcing the time, cutting the lawn by remote-control mower, or setting an umbrella frantically out and in, the slamming and opening front door, a thousand things happening, like a clock shop when each clock strikes the hour insanely before or after the other, a scene of maniac confusion, yet unity; singing, screaming, a few last cleaning mice darting bravely out to carry the horrid ashes away! And one voice, with sublime disregard for the situation, read poetry aloud in the fiery study, until all the film spools burned, until all the wires withered and the circuits cracked.
The fire burst the house and let it slam flat down, puffing out skirts of spark and smoke.
In the kitchen, an instant before the rain of fire and timber, the stove could be seen making breakfasts at a psychopathic rate, ten dozen eggs, six loaves of toast, twenty dozen bacon strips, which, eaten by fire, started the  stove working again, hysterically hissing!

Word Meanings
Avalanche: A large mass of something falling rapidly. Here, it is used metaphorically for a large falling mass of fire and debris.
Choruses: Groups of voices speaking or singing together like the different automated voices of the house.
oblivious: unaware
frantically: nervously or in an uncontrolled manner
maniac: reckless and dangerous
sublime: majestic
Fiery: Full of fire; burning intensely.
spools: animal tracks or droppings
Withered: Shriveled or faded.
Circuits cracked: The electrical pathways and components broke apart.
Puffing out skirts: A metaphorical description of how the smoke and sparks billowed out like a skirt when the house collapsed.
psychopathic: insane
Hysterically hissing: Making a hissing sound in a wild, uncontrolled way.

Explanation of the above passage—In the final moments, as the house was collapsing in a shower of fire, various automated actions could be heard, all working at the same time but without any purpose. The voices announced the time and a remote-control mower cut the lawn. An umbrella went in and out of the front door, and the door itself slammed and opened repeatedly. A thousand things were happening at once, creating a chaotic scene that was like a clock shop where every clock was striking the hour at a different time. In the middle of this wild confusion, a few of the last robot mice bravely darted out to carry away the horrible ashes. And one voice, completely ignoring the disaster, continued to read poetry aloud in the fiery study until all its film reels burned, its wires withered, and its circuits broke. The fire then burst through the house, causing it to slam down flat, sending out huge bursts of sparks and smoke. In the kitchen, just before the rain of fire and wood crashed down, the stove was still visible, making breakfasts at a frantic, insane speed. It produced huge amounts of eggs, toast, and bacon. The fire consumed these, which triggered the stove to start working again, hissing in a hysterical way.

 

Passage: The crash. The attic smashing into kitchen and parlour. The parlour into cellar, cellar into sub-cellar. Deep freeze, armchair, film tapes, circuits, beds, and all like skeletons thrown in a cluttered mound deep under.
Smoke and silence. A great quantity of smoke.
Dawn showed faintly in the east. Among the ruins, one wall stood alone. Within the wall, a last voice said, over and over again and again, even as the sun rose to shine upon the heaped rubble and steam:
“Today is August 5, 2026, today is August 5, 2026, today is…”

Word Meanings
Attic: The space or room at the very top of a house, just below the roof.
Parlour: A living room or sitting room in a house.
cellar: a room below ground level in a house, often used for storing wine or coal.
Sub-cellar: An underground room that is deeper than the main cellar.
Skeletons: A comparison here to the bare frames of objects, like the frame of a chair or bed, as they are broken and piled up.
cluttered: filled with things in an untidy way
Rubble: The remains of a building, such as stones and bricks, after it has been destroyed.

Explanation of the above passage—There was a loud crash as the attic fell down onto the kitchen and living room. The living room then collapsed into the cellar, and the cellar fell into the sub-cellar. Everything inside like the deep freeze, a chair, film tapes, electrical circuits, and beds, was all thrown together like skeletons in a messy pile deep underground. Afterward, there was only smoke and silence, and a great deal of smoke filled the air. Dawn appeared weakly in the east. Among all the ruins, one single wall was still standing. Inside that wall, a final voice repeated over and over, even as the sun rose to shine on the pile of rubble and steam, that today was August 5, 2026. The voice kept repeating the date.

 

Conclusion 

There Will Come Soft Rains is a short story by Ray Bradbury set in a disaster-inflated world about a highly automated house that continues with its daily routines even though its human occupants are gone. Students can take help from this post to understand the story and also learn the difficult word meanings to get a better grasp of There Will Come Soft Rains. This post includes a summary of There Will Come Soft Rains, which will help students of ISC class 12, Prism book to get a quick recap of the story.

 

Also See:

Prism Book Lesson Explanation

Prism Book Question Answers

Prism Book Character Sketch

Rhapsody Book Poem Explanation

Rhapsody Book Question Answers

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