And, the last day being come, Man stood alone <br />Ere sunrise on the world's dismantled verge, <br />Awaiting how from everywhere should urge <br />The Coming of the Lord. And, behold, none <br /> <br />Did come, -- but indistinct from every realm <br />Of earth and air and water, growing more <br />And louder, shriller, heavier, a roar <br />Up the dun atmosphere did overwhelm <br /> <br />His ears; and as he looked affrighted round <br />Every manner of beast innumerable <br />All thro' the shadows crying grew, until <br />The wailing was like grass upon the ground. <br /> <br />Asudden then within his human side <br />Their anguish, since the goad he wielded first, <br />And, since he gave them not to drink, their thirst, <br />Darted compressed and vital. -- As he died, <br /> <br />Low in the East now lighting gorgeously <br />He saw the last sea-serpent iris-mailed <br />Which, with a spear transfixèd, yet availed <br />To pluck the sun down into the dead sea.<br /><br />Trumbull Stickney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-the-last-day-being-come/
