Page:With Sa'di in the Garden, or The Book of Love (1888).djvu/17

He hath not eyes to see whose eyes have seen
That glory of the beauty of the Taj,
Nor knew and felt—at seeing—how man's hand
Comes nearest God's herein, touching His charm
Of rounded silvery clouds in that poised Dome
Which hangs between the sky's blue and the stream's—
Fixing the fleeting structures of His snow
In those piled pilasters and stainless flats
Which mount and mount—delicate, drifted, still;—
Simple, yet subtle, as the curves and shades
Of the white breasts of her it celebrates,
Arjamand Banu, Queen of Love and Death:
A passion, and a worship, and a faith
Writ fast in alabaster, so that Earth
Hath nothing anywhere of mortal toil
So fine-wrought, so consummate, so supreme—
So, beyond praise, Love's loveliest monument—
As what in Agra, upon Jumna's bank,
Shah Jahan builded for his Lady's grave.