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