Who prowled each afternoon to Bruce’s house,
Consoling himself there for being lonely;
Except the little roundhead and his anxious
Wife; except those strangers up the mountain;
And Bruce himself, awaiting it with Dora.
VIII
It came, the time of Dora, when no man,
No man of all her three, was home for messenger.
Darius snored in his own house—a ball
Of skin beneath the bedclothes—and the night