Reread the last stanza of John Montague's poem "The Fight". (p.20) For minutes we fought
Standing and falling in
The river’s brown spate.
And I would still fight,
Though now I can forgive;
To worship or destroy beauty—
That double edge of the impulse
I recognize, by which we live:
But also the bitter paradox
Of betraying love to harm,
Then lunging, too late,
With fists, to its defense.

How is this stanza different from the rest of the poem?