And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.

I Sing what was lost and dread what was won, / I walk in a battle fought over again.

Fair and foul are near of kin And fair needs foul," I cried. "My friends are gone, but that's a truth Nor grave nor bed denied."

I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.

A man in his own secret meditation / Is lost amid the labyrinth that he has made / In art or politics.

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?

For he would be thinking of love Till the stars had run away And the shadows eaten the moon.