Listening

She listened like a cushat dove
That listens to its mate alone;
She listened like a cushat dove
That loves but only one.
Not fair as men would reckon fair,
Nor noble as they count the line:
Only as graceful as a bough.
And tendrils of the vine:
Only as noble as sweet Eve
Your ancestress and mine.
And downcast were her dovelike eyes
And downcast was her tender cheek;
Her pulses fluttered like a dove
To hear him speak.