No More Learning

XLVI.

"Since young Clare a mother hath, and young Ralph a plighted faith"--
_Toll slowly. _
"Since my pale young sister's cheeks blush like rose when Ronald
speaks,
Albeit never a word she saith--

XLVII.

"These shall never die for me: life-blood falls too heavily":
_Toll slowly. _
"And if _I_ die here apart, o'er my dead and silent heart
They shall pass out safe and free.

XLVIII.

"When the foe hath heard it said--'Death holds Guy of Linteged'"--
_Toll slowly. _
"That new corse new peace shall bring, and a blessed, blessed thing
Shall the stone be at its head.

XLIX.

"Then my friends shall pass out free, and shall bear my memory"--
_Toll slowly. _
"Then my foes shall sleek their pride, soothing fair my widowed bride
Whose sole sin was love of me:

L.

"With their words all smooth and sweet, they will front her and
entreat"--
_Toll slowly. _
"And their purple pall will spread underneath her fainting head
While her tears drop over it.

LI.

"She will weep her woman's tears, she will pray her woman's prayers"--
_Toll slowly. _
"But her heart is young in pain, and her hopes will spring again
By the suntime of her years.

LII.

"Ah, sweet May! ah, sweetest grief! --once I vowed thee my belief"--
_Toll slowly_--
"That thy name expressed thy sweetness,--May of poets, in completeness!
Now my May-day seemeth brief. "

LIII.

All these silent thoughts did swim o'er his eyes grown strange and
dim--
_Toll slowly. _
Till his true men, in the place, wished they stood there face to face
With the foe instead of him.

LIV.

"One last oath, my friends that wear faithful hearts to do and dare! "
_Toll slowly. _
"Tower must fall and bride be lost--swear me service worth the cost! "
Bold they stood around to swear.

LV.

"Each man clasp my hand and swear by the deed we failed in there"--
_Toll slowly. _
"Not for vengeance, not for right, will ye strike one blow to-night! "
Pale they stood around to swear.

LVI.

"One last boon, young Ralph and Clare! faithful hearts to do and dare! "
_Toll slowly. _
"Bring that steed up from his stall, which she kissed before you all.
Guide him up the turret-stair.

LVII.

"Ye shall harness him aright, and lead upward to this height:"
_Toll slowly. _
"Once in love and twice in war hath he borne me strong and far:
He shall bear me far to-night. "

LVIII.

Then his men looked to and fro, when they heard him speaking so--
_Toll slowly. _
"'Las! the noble heart," they thought, "he in sooth is grief-
distraught:
Would we stood here with the foe! "

LIX.

But a fire flashed from his eye, 'twixt their thought and their reply--
_Toll slowly. _
"Have ye so much time to waste? We who ride here, must ride fast
As we wish our foes to fly. "

LX.

They have fetched the steed with care, in the harness he did wear--
_Toll slowly. _
Past the court and through the doors, across the rushes of the floors,
But they goad him up the stair.

LXI.

Then from out her bower chambere did the Duchess May repair:
_Toll slowly. _
"Tell me now what is your need," said the lady, "of this steed,
That ye goad him up the stair? "

LXII.

Calm she stood; unbodkined through, fell her dark hair to her shoe:
_Toll slowly. _
And the smile upon her face, ere she left the tiring-glass,
Had not time enough to go.

LXIII.

"Get thee back, sweet Duchess May! hope is gone like yesterday":
_Toll slowly. _
One half-hour completes the breach; and thy lord grows wild of speech--
Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray!

LXIV.

"In the east tower, high'st of all, loud he cries for steed from
stall":
_Toll slowly. _
"'He would ride as far,' quoth he, 'as for love and victory,
Though he rides the castle-wall. '

LXV.

"And we fetch the steed from stall, up where never a hoof did fall"--
_Toll slowly. _
"Wifely prayer meets deathly need: may the sweet Heavens hear thee
plead
If he rides the castle-wall! "

LXVI.

Low she dropt her head, and lower, till her hair coiled on the floor--
_Toll slowly. _
And tear after tear you heard fall distinct as any word
Which you might be listening for.

LXVII.

"Get thee in, thou soft ladye! here is never a place for thee! "
_Toll slowly. _
"Braid thine hair and clasp thy gown, that thy beauty in its moan
May find grace with Leigh of Leigh. "

LXVIII.

She stood up in bitter case, with a pale yet steady face:
_Toll slowly. _
Like a statue thunderstruck, which, though quivering, seems to look
Right against the thunder-place.

LXIX.

And her foot trod in, with pride, her own tears i' the stone beside--
_Toll slowly. _
"Go to, faithful friends, go to! judge no more what ladies do,
No, nor how their lords may ride! "

LXX.

Then the good steed's rein she took, and his neck did kiss and stroke:
_Toll slowly. _
Soft he neighed to answer her, and then followed up the stair
For the love of her sweet look:

LXXI.

Oh, and steeply, steeply wound up the narrow stair around--
_Toll slowly. _
Oh, and closely, closely speeding, step by step beside her treading
Did he follow, meek as hound.

LXXII.

On the east tower, high'st of all,--there, where never a hoof did
fall--
_Toll slowly. _
Out they swept, a vision steady, noble steed and lovely lady,
Calm as if in bower or stall.

LXXIII.

Down she knelt at her lord's knee, and she looked up silently--
_Toll slowly. _
And he kissed her twice and thrice, for that look within her eyes
Which he could not bear to see.

LXXIV.

Quoth he, "Get thee from this strife, and the sweet saints bless thy
life! "
_Toll slowly. _
"In this hour I stand in need of my noble red-roan steed,
But no more of my noble wife. "

LXXV.

Quoth she, "Meekly have I done all thy biddings under sun":
_Toll slowly. _
"But by all my womanhood, which is proved so, true and good,
I will never do this one.

LXXVI.

"Now by womanhood's degree and by wifehood's verity"--
_Toll slowly. _
"In this hour if thou hast need of thy noble red-roan steed,
Thou hast also need of _me_.

LXXVII.

"By this golden ring ye see on this lifted hand pardie"--
_Toll slowly. _
"If, this hour, on castle-wall can be room for steed from stall,
Shall be also room for _me_.

LXXVIII.

"So the sweet saints with me be," (did she utter solemnly)--
_Toll slowly. _
"If a man, this eventide, on this castle wall will ride,
He shall ride the same with _me_. "

LXXIX.

Oh, he sprang up in the selle and he laughed out bitter-well--
_Toll slowly. _
"Wouldst thou ride among the leaves, as we used on other eves,
To hear chime a vesper-bell? "

LXXX.

She clung closer to his knee--"Ay, beneath the cypress-tree! "
_Toll slowly. _
"Mock me not, for otherwhere than along the greenwood fair
Have I ridden fast with thee.

LXXXI.

"Fast I rode with new-made vows from my angry kinsman's house":
_Toll slowly. _
"What, and would you men should reck that I dared more for love's sake
As a bride than as a spouse?

LXXXII.

"What, and would you it should fall, as a proverb, before all"--
_Toll slowly. _
"That a bride may keep your side while through castle-gate you ride,
Yet eschew the castle-wall? "

LXXXIII.

Ho! the breach yawns into ruin and roars up against her suing--
_Toll slowly. _
With the inarticulate din and the dreadful falling in--
Shrieks of doing and undoing!

LXXXIV.

Twice he wrung her hands in twain, but the small hands closed again.
_Toll slowly. _
Back he reined the steed--back, back! but she trailed along his track
With a frantic clasp and strain.

LXXXV.

Evermore the foemen pour through the crash of window and door--
_Toll slowly. _
And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh, and the shrieks of "kill! " and
"flee! "
Strike up clear amid the roar.

LXXXVI.

Thrice he wrung her hands in twain, but they closed and clung again--
_Toll slowly. _
While she clung, as one, withstood, clasps a Christ upon the rood,
In a spasm of deathly pain.

LXXXVII.

She clung wild and she clung mute with her shuddering lips half-shut.
_Toll slowly. _
Her head fallen as half in swound, hair and knee swept on the ground,
She clung wild to stirrup and foot.

LXXXVIII.

Back he reined his steed back-thrown on the slippery coping-stone:
_Toll slowly. _
Back the iron hoofs did grind on the battlement behind
Whence a hundred feet went down:

LXXXIX.

And his heel did press and goad on the quivering flank bestrode--
_Toll slowly. _
"Friends and brothers, save my wife! Pardon, sweet, in change for
life,--
But I ride alone to God. "

XC.

Straight as if the Holy name had upbreathed her like a flame--
_Toll slowly. _
She upsprang, she rose upright, in his selle she sate in sight,
By her love she overcame.

XCI.

And her head was on his breast where she smiled as one at rest--
_Toll slowly. _
"Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell in the beechwood's old chapelle--
But the passing-bell rings best! "

XCII.

They have caught out at the rein which Sir Guy threw loose--in vain--
_Toll slowly. _
For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,
On the last verge rears amain.

XCIII.

Now he hangs, he rocks between, and his nostrils curdle in--
_Toll slowly. _
Now he shivers head and hoof and the flakes of foam fall off,
And his face grows fierce and thin:

XCIV.

And a look of human woe from his staring eyes did go:
_Toll slowly. _
And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony
Of the headlong death below,--

XCV.

And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, "i' the old
chapelle! "
_Toll slowly. _
Then, back-toppling, crashing back--a dead weight flung out to wrack,
Horse and riders overfell.

* * * * *

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west--
_Toll slowly. _
And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the churchyard, while the chime
Slowly tolled for one at rest.

II.

The abeles moved in the sun, and the river smooth did run--
_Toll slowly. _
And the ancient Rhyme rang strange, with its passion and its change,
Here, where all done lay undone.

III.

And beneath a willow tree I a little grave did see--
_Toll slowly_--
Where was graved--HERE, UNDEFILED, LIETH MAUD, A THREE-YEAR CHILD,
EIGHTEEN HUNDRED FORTY-THREE.

IV.

Then O spirits, did I say, ye who rode so fast that day--
_Toll slowly. _
Did star-wheels and angel wings with their holy winnowings
Keep beside you all the way?

V.

Though in passion ye would dash, with a blind and heavy crash--
_Toll slowly_--
Up against the thick-bossed shield of God's judgment in the field,--
Though your heart and brain were rash,--

VI.

Now, your will is all unwilled; now, your pulses are all stilled:
_Toll slowly. _
Now, ye lie as meek and mild (whereso laid) as Maud the child
Whose small grave was lately filled.

VII.

Beating heart and burning brow, ye are very patient now--
_Toll slowly. _
And the children might be bold to pluck the kingcups from your mould
Ere a month had let them grow.

VIII.

And you let the goldfinch sing in the alder near in spring--
_Toll slowly. _
Let her build her nest and sit all the three weeks out on it,
Murmuring not at anything.

IX.

In your patience ye are strong, cold and heat ye take not wrong--
_Toll slowly. _
When the trumpet of the angel blows eternity's evangel,
Time will seem to you not long.

X.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west--
_Toll slowly. _
And I said in underbreath,--All our life is mixed with death,
And who knoweth which is best?

XI.

Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west--
_Toll slowly. _
And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our
incompleteness,--
Round our restlessness, His rest.




_THE ROMANCE OF THE SWAN'S NEST. _

So the dreams depart,
So the fading phantoms flee,
And the sharp reality
Now must act its part.

WESTWOOD'S _Beads from a Rosary_


I.
Little Ellie sits alone
'Mid the beeches of a meadow,
By a stream-side on the grass,
And the trees are showering down
Doubles of their leaves in shadow
On her shining hair and face.

II.

She has thrown her bonnet by,
And her feet she has been dipping
In the shallow water's flow:
Now she holds them nakedly
In her hands, all sleek and dripping,
While she rocketh to and fro.

III.

Little Ellie sits alone,
And the smile she softly uses
Fills the silence like a speech
While she thinks what shall be done,
And the sweetest pleasure chooses
For her future within reach.

IV.

Little Ellie in her smile
Chooses--"I will have a lover
Riding on a steed of steeds:
He shall love me without guile,
And to _him_ I will discover
The swan's nest among the reeds.

V.

"And the steed shall be red-roan,
And the lover shall be noble,
With an eye that takes the breath:
And the lute he plays upon
Shall strike ladies into trouble,
As his sword strikes men to death.

VI.

"And the steed it shall be shod
All in silver, housed in azure,
And the mane shall swim the wind;
And the hoofs along the sod
Shall flash onward and keep measure,
Till the shepherds look behind.

VII.

"But my lover will not prize
All the glory that he rides in,
When he gazes in my face:
He will say, 'O Love, thine eyes
Build the shrine my soul abides in,
And I kneel here for thy grace! '

VIII.

"Then, ay, then he shall kneel low,
With the red-roan steed anear him
Which shall seem to understand,
Till I answer, 'Rise and go!
For the world must love and fear him
Whom I gift with heart and hand. '

IX.

"Then he will arise so pale,
I shall feel my own lips tremble
With a _yes_ I must not say,
Nathless maiden-brave, 'Farewell,'
I will utter, and dissemble--
'Light to-morrow with to-day! '

X.

"Then he'll ride among the hills
To the wide world past the river,
There to put away all wrong;
To make straight distorted wills,
And to empty the broad quiver
Which the wicked bear along.

XI.

"Three times shall a young foot-page
Swim the stream and climb the mountain
And kneel down beside my feet--
'Lo, my master sends this gage,
Lady, for thy pity's counting!
What wilt thou exchange for it? '

XII.

"And the first time I will send
A white rosebud for a guerdon,
And the second time, a glove;
But the third time--I may bend
From my pride, and answer--'Pardon
If he comes to take my love. '

XIII.

"Then the young foot-page will run,
Then my lover will ride faster,
Till he kneeleth at my knee:
'I am a duke's eldest son,
Thousand serfs do call me master,
But, O Love, I love but _thee_! '

XIV.

"He will kiss me on the mouth
Then, and lead me as a lover
Through the crowds that praise his deeds;
And, when soul-tied by one troth,
Unto _him_ I will discover
That swan's nest among the reeds. "

XV.

Little Ellie, with her smile
Not yet ended, rose up gaily,
Tied the bonnet, donned the shoe,
And went homeward, round a mile,
Just to see, as she did daily,
What more eggs were with the two.

XVI.

Pushing through the elm-tree copse,
Winding up the stream, light-hearted,
Where the osier pathway leads,
Past the boughs she stoops--and stops.
Lo, the wild swan had deserted,
And a rat had gnawed the reeds!

XVII.

Ellie went home sad and slow.
If she found the lover ever,
With his red-roan steed of steeds,
Sooth I know not; but I know
She could never show him--never,
That swan's nest among the reeds!




_BERTHA IN THE LANE. _


I.

Put the broidery-frame away,
For my sewing is all done:
The last thread is used to-day,
And I need not join it on.
Though the clock stands at the noon
I am weary. I have sewn,
Sweet, for thee, a wedding-gown.

II.

Sister, help me to the bed,
And stand near me, Dearest-sweet.
Do not shrink nor be afraid,
Blushing with a sudden heat!
No one standeth in the street? --
By God's love I go to meet,
Love I thee with love complete.

III.

Lean thy face down; drop it in
These two hands, that I may hold
'Twixt their palms thy cheek and chin,
Stroking back the curls of gold:
'T is a fair, fair face, in sooth--
Larger eyes and redder mouth
Than mine were in my first youth.

IV.

Thou art younger by seven years--
Ah! --so bashful at my gaze,
That the lashes, hung with tears,
Grow too heavy to upraise?
I would wound thee by no touch
Which thy shyness feels as such.
Dost thou mind me, Dear, so much?

V.

Have I not been nigh a mother
To thy sweetness--tell me, Dear?
Have we not loved one another
Tenderly, from year to year,
Since our dying mother mild
Said with accents undefiled,
"Child, be mother to this child"!

VI.

Mother, mother, up in heaven,
Stand up on the jasper sea,
And be witness I have given
All the gifts required of me,--
Hope that blessed me, bliss that crowned,
Love that left me with a wound,
Life itself that turneth round!

VII.

Thou art standing in the room,
In a molten glory shrined
That rays off into the gloom!
But thy smile is bright and bleak
Like cold waves--I cannot speak,
I sob in it, and grow weak.

VIII.

Ghostly mother, keep aloof
One hour longer from my soul,
For I still am thinking of
Earth's warm-beating joy and dole!
On my finger is a ring
Which I still see glittering
When the night hides everything.

IX.

Little sister, thou art pale!
Ah, I have a wandering brain--
But I lose that fever-bale,
And my thoughts grow calm again.
Lean down closer--closer still!
I have words thine ear to fill,
And would kiss thee at my will.

X.

Dear, I heard thee in the spring,
Thee and Robert--through the trees,--
When we all went gathering
Boughs of May-bloom for the bees.
Do not start so! think instead
How the sunshine overhead
Seemed to trickle through the shade.

XI.

What a day it was, that day!
Hills and vales did openly
Seem to heave and throb away
At the sight of the great sky:
And the silence, as it stood
In the glory's golden flood,
Audibly did bud, and bud.

XII.

Through the winding hedgerows green,
How we wandered, I and you,
With the bowery tops shut in,
And the gates that showed the view!
How we talked there; thrushes soft
Sang our praises out, or oft
Bleatings took them from the croft:

XIII.

Till the pleasure grown too strong
Left me muter evermore,
And, the winding road being long,
I walked out of sight, before,
And so, wrapt in musings fond,
Issued (past the wayside pond)
On the meadow-lands beyond.

XIV.

I sate down beneath the beech
Which leans over to the lane,
And the far sound of your speech
Did not promise any pain;
And I blessed you full and free,
With a smile stooped tenderly
O'er the May-flowers on my knee.

XV.

But the sound grew into word
As the speakers drew more near--
Sweet, forgive me that I heard
What you wished me not to hear.
Do not weep so, do not shake,
Oh,--I heard thee, Bertha, make
Good true answers for my sake.

XVI.

Yes, and HE too! let him stand
In thy thoughts, untouched by blame.
Could he help it, if my hand
He had claimed with hasty claim?
That was wrong perhaps--but then
Such things be--and will, again.
Women cannot judge for men.

XVII.

Had he seen thee when he swore
He would love but me alone?
Thou wast absent, sent before
To our kin in Sidmouth town.
When he saw thee who art best
Past compare, and loveliest.
He but judged thee as the rest.

XVIII.

Could we blame him with grave words,
Thou and I, Dear, if we might?
Thy brown eyes have looks like birds
Flying straightway to the light:
Mine are older. --Hush! --look out--
Up the street! Is none without?
How the poplar swings about!

XIX.

And that hour--beneath the beech,
When I listened in a dream,
And he said in his deep speech
That he owed me all _esteem_,--
Each word swam in on my brain
With a dim, dilating pain,
Till it burst with that last strain.

XX.

I fell flooded with a dark,
In the silence of a swoon.
When I rose, still cold and stark,
There was night; I saw the moon
And the stars, each in its place,
And the May-blooms on the grass,
Seemed to wonder what I was.

XXI.

And I walked as if apart
From myself, when I could stand,
And I pitied my own heart,
As if I held it in my hand--
Somewhat coldly, with a sense
Of fulfilled benevolence,
And a "Poor thing" negligence.

XXII.

And I answered coldly too,
When you met me at the door;
And I only _heard_ the dew
Dripping from me to the floor:
And the flowers, I bade you see,
Were too withered for the bee,--
As my life, henceforth, for me.

XXIII.

Do not weep so--Dear,--heart-warm!
All was best as it befell.
If I say he did me harm,
I speak wild,--I am not well.
All his words were kind and good--
_He esteemed me. _ Only, blood
Runs so faint in womanhood!

XXIV.

Then I always was too grave,--
Liked the saddest ballad sung,--
With that look, besides, we have
In our faces, who die young.
I had died, Dear, all the same;
Life's long, joyous, jostling game
Is too loud for my meek shame.

XXV.

We are so unlike each other,
Thou and I, that none could guess
We were children of one mother,
But for mutual tenderness.
Thou art rose-lined from the cold,
And meant verily to hold
Life's pure pleasures manifold.

XXVI.

I am pale as crocus grows
Close beside a rose-tree's root;
Whosoe'er would reach the rose,
Treads the crocus underfoot.
_I_, like May-bloom on thorn-tree,
Thou, like merry summer-bee,--
Fit that I be plucked for thee!

XXVII.

Yet who plucks me? --no one mourns,
I have lived my season out,
And now die of my own thorns
Which I could not live without.
Sweet, be merry! How the light
Comes and goes! If it be night,
Keep the candles in my sight.

XXVIII.

Are there footsteps at the door?
Look out quickly. Yea, or nay?
Some one might be waiting for
Some last word that I might say.
Nay? So best! --so angels would
Stand off clear from deathly road,
Not to cross the sight of God.

XXIX.

Colder grow my hands and feet.
When I wear the shroud I made,
Let the folds lie straight and neat,
And the rosemary be spread,
That if any friend should come,
(To see _thee_, Sweet! ) all the room
May be lifted out of gloom.

XXX.

And, dear Bertha, let me keep
On my hand this little ring,
Which at nights, when others sleep,
I can still see glittering!
Let me wear it out of sight,
In the grave,--where it will light
All the dark up, day and night.

XXXI.

On that grave drop not a tear!
Else, though fathom-deep the place,
Through the woollen shroud I wear
I shall feel it on my face.
Rather smile there, blessed one,
Thinking of me in the sun,
Or forget me--smiling on!

XXXII.

Art thou near me? nearer! so--
Kiss me close upon the eyes,
That the earthly light may go
Sweetly, as it used to rise
When I watched the morning-grey
Strike, betwixt the hills, the way
He was sure to come that day.

XXXIII.

So,--no more vain words be said!
The hosannas nearer roll.
Mother, smile now on thy Dead,
I am death-strong in my soul.
Mystic Dove alit on cross,
Guide the poor bird of the snows
Through the snow-wind above loss!

XXXIV.

Jesus, Victim, comprehending
Love's divine self-abnegation,
Cleanse my love in its self-spending,
And absorb the poor libation!
Wind my thread of life up higher,
Up, through angels' hands of fire!
I aspire while I expire.




_LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP:_

A ROMANCE OF THE AGE.

_A Poet writes to his Friend. _ PLACE--_A Room in Wycombe Hall. _
TIME--_Late in the evening. _


I.

Dear my friend and fellow-student, I would lean my spirit o'er you!
Down the purple of this chamber tears should scarcely run at will.
I am humbled who was humble. Friend, I bow my head before you:
You should lead me to my peasants, but their faces are too still.

II.

There's a lady, an earl's daughter,--she is proud and she is noble,
And she treads the crimson carpet and she breathes the perfumed air,
And a kingly blood sends glances up, her princely eye to trouble,
And the shadow of a monarch's crown is softened in her hair.

III.

She has halls among the woodlands, she has castles by the breakers,
She has farms and she has manors, she can threaten and command:
And the palpitating engines snort in steam across her acres,
As they mark upon the blasted heaven the measure of the land.

IV.

There are none of England's daughters who can show a prouder presence;
Upon princely suitors' praying she has looked in her disdain.
She was sprung of English nobles, I was born of English peasants;
What was _I_ that I should love her, save for competence to pain?

V.

I was only a poor poet, made for singing at her casement,
As the finches or the thrushes, while she thought of other things.
Oh, she walked so high above me, she appeared to my abasement,
In her lovely silken murmur, like an angel clad in wings!

VI.

Many vassals bow before her as her carriage sweeps their doorways;
She has blest their little children, as a priest or queen were she:
Far too tender, or too cruel far, her smile upon the poor was,
For I thought it was the same smile which she used to smile on _me_.

VII.

She has voters in the Commons, she has lovers in the palace,
And, of all the fair court-ladies, few have jewels half as fine;
Oft the Prince has named her beauty 'twixt the red wine and the
chalice:
Oh, and what was _I_ to love her? my beloved, my Geraldine!

VIII.

Yet I could not choose but love her: I was born to poet-uses,
To love all things set above me, all of good and all of fair.
Nymphs of mountain, not of valley, we are wont to call the Muses;
And in nympholeptic climbing, poets pass from mount to star.

IX.

And because I was a poet, and because the public praised me,
With a critical deduction for the modern writer's fault,
I could sit at rich men's tables,--though the courtesies that raised
me,
Still suggested clear between us the pale spectrum of the salt.

X.

And they praised me in her presence--"Will your book appear this
summer? "
Then returning to each other--"Yes, our plans are for the moors. "
Then with whisper dropped behind me--"There he is! the latest comer.
Oh, she only likes his verses!