It reads like quiet advice offered after a quarrel. The speaker warns against being too “just” or self-righteous in anger—demanding to be right, settling every score. In the heat of a fight, that kind of certainty can feel strong, but the poem says it burns out into something useless: dust. What remains is regret, imagined as bitter footsteps slowly approaching. The mood is intimate and rueful, not scolding. It feels like hard-won wisdom between lovers: winning the argument by being perfectly fair and perfectly right may cost more than it is worth. The warning is tender because it cares more about the relationship than about victory.
Love-songs, at Once Tender and Informative XXI — Summary
In your anger be not just, Lest your anger turn to dust; Anger will make easy yet The bitter footfalls of regret.