Sonnet: - VIII.
Above where I am sitting, o'er these stones, The ocean waves once heaved their mighty forms; And vengeful tempests and appalling storms Wrung from the stricken sea portentous moans, That rent stupendous icebergs, whose huge heights Crashed down in fragments through the startled nights. Change, change, eternal change in all but God! Mysterious nature! thrice mysterious state Of body, soul, and spirit! Man is awed, But triumphs in his littleness. A mote, He specks the eye of the age and turns to dust, And is the sport of centuries. We note More surely nature's ever-changing fate; Her fossil records tell how she performs her trust.
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"Above where I am sitting, o'er these stones,..."
"Sonnet: - VIII." is a quintessential example of Charles Sangster's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...