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THE PHASES OF THE MOON
93
In its own being, and when that war's begun
There is no muscle in the arm; and after
Under the frenzy of the fourteenth moon,
The soul begins to tremble into stillness,
To die into the labyrinth of itself
Aherne
Sing out the song; sing to the end, and sing
The strange reward of all that discipline.
Robartes
All thought becomes an image and the soul
Becomes a body: that body and that soul
Too perfect at the full to lie in a cradle,
