Stalemated their armies stood, with tottering banners:
She flung from a room
Still ringing with bruit of insults and dishonors
And in fury left him
Glowering at the coal-fire: ‘Come find me’—her last taunt.
He did not come
But sat on, guarding his grim battlement.
By the doorstep
Her winter-beheaded daisies, marrowless, gaunt,
Warned her to keep
Indoors with politic goodwill, not haste
Into a landscape
Of stark wind-harrowed hills and weltering mist;
But from the house
She stalked intractable as a driven ghost
Across moor snows
Pocked by rock-claw and rabbit-track: she must yet win
Him to his knees—
Let him send police and hounds to bring her in.
Nursing her rage
Through bare whistling heather, over stiles of black stone,