Page:With Sa'di in the Garden, or The Book of Love (1888).djvu/35

So that this place of death is made a bower
With beauteous grace of blossoms overspread;
And she who loved her garden, lieth now
Lapped in a garden.
And all this for Love!
The marbles were Mukrâni—Jeypore's best—
Brought seventy koss in creaking cattle-wains;
The sandstone Futtehpur's; the jewels came
Over a hundred wastes, a thousand hills,
By camel-caravan, ten thousand bales,
From Balkh, Iran, and far-off Khorasan.
Three crores our Emperor lavished on his Taj;
Two lakhs of workmen toiled for seventeen years
Accomplishing the Death-Place of his Queen:
And, all for Love! Dying at Burhanpur
She spake to him: "Oh, Sultan of the Age!
Life of my Soul! who lov'dst me so; and knowest
How well I loved! now pass I—leaving thee
Last babe and latest kiss. Let all the world