Where the road leads from Delhi to the South, And dingy camel-trains creep in the dust Past ruin-heaps of old Firozabad And Indropat unpitied of the drouth; By a lone tree, above a Pool whose sad Prayer-water all the turban-people trust, Is a heat-hidden tomb, and on it just A few faint blades of bent and grieving grass. 'Jehanara's it is' -- with ready mouth A Moslem tells the travel-worn who pass To lordlier-rising tombs -- 'Jehanara's: One time her heart, heavy with pity, said: @3The covering of the poor is only grass, Let no more then be mine when I am dead.'@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VICARIOUS ATONEMENT by RICHARD ALDINGTON CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH ESSAY ON STONE by HAYDEN CARRUTH EXPLICATION OF AN IMAGINARY TEXT by JAMES GALVIN GOOD-BYE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A FLORIDA SUNDAY by SIDNEY LANIER |