I asked again; earth, sea and sun
                                        
                                        Seemed, with one voice, to make reply:
                                        
                                        “Time’s wasting sands are nearly run,
                                        
                                        Eternity is nigh.
                                        
                                        Then weep no more—with warning tones,
                                        
                                        Portentous sights are thickening round,
                                        
                                        The whole creation, waiting, groans,
                                        
                                        To hear the trumpet sound.”