Hark! The Trumpets Calling Poem by Joshua McCall

Hark! The trumpet's calling, calling
through the swelling thunderheads
despite my lover's tears a-falling,
as I lay upon my bed.

Lo! The trumpet's calling, calling
for my coming death to tell;
the children they are all a-bawling
to the sound of mournful knell.

There! The trumpet's calling, calling
just beyond the window pane,
tender sheets will be a-sprawling
o'er me like the pouring rain.

O! The trumpet's calling, calling
down to those I've left behind.
I hope that they are fond recalling
me as I am they in kind.