Beneath this starry arch,
Naught resteth or is still;
But all things hold their march
As if by one great will.
Move one, move all:
Hark to the footfall!
On, on, forever.
—Harriet Martineau.
Beneath this starry arch,
Naught resteth or is still;
But all things hold their march
As if by one great will.
Move one, move all:
Hark to the footfall!
On, on, forever.
—Harriet Martineau.