Above where I am sitting, o'er these stones, <br />The ocean waves once heaved their mighty forms; <br />And vengeful tempests and appalling storms <br />Wrung from the stricken sea portentous moans, <br />That rent stupendous icebergs, whose huge heights <br />Crashed down in fragments through the startled nights. <br />Change, change, eternal change in all but God! <br />Mysterious nature! thrice mysterious state <br />Of body, soul, and spirit! Man is awed, <br />But triumphs in his littleness. A mote, <br />He specks the eye of the age and turns to dust, <br />And is the sport of centuries. We note <br />More surely nature's ever-changing fate; <br />Her fossil records tell how she performs her trust.<br /><br />Charles Sangster<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/above-where-i-am-sitting-o-er-these-stones/
