Whose foot is on the treadle/That turns the burning stars/Has spun the world half way round/Since last I called/Come down, come down. That stars that in September/Looked through the mournful rain/Now set their sight again/Upon a world half night, half light Men of distant years have said/That much depends on change of seasons/On solstices and equinox/And they have given reasons. I disagree./Too much turns on inadvertence/On what seems to be/An accident of hand and knee/A chance sunrise/A glance of eyes.

Senator Eugene Mccarthy