On The Mer-De-Glace Poem by Sheehan Patrick Augustine

Hither God brought His rebel seas to try
How high His wrath could lash them, unrelieved
By sinking spaces or by low'ring sky;
And they, by loftiest altitudes deceived,
Leaped to his lash as if they fain believed
They, too, could sweep his skies, and there decry
His promise, when the smoking altars heaved
And sullen waters left the mountains dry.

But He, resenting such Titanic pride.
Transfixed them in columnar ice and stone,
Leaving vast valleys in their solitude.
There till the scythes of the last lava tide
Shall level all things, all proud things dethrone.
The spirits of those Stylites dream and brood.