Near the ceiling, mute in the dark, the columns
Still are complexly carved, no one to see
How pineapple chased pomegranate round
A checkered brede forever. Workmen died.
New stairs expose manual prayer made
Visible. God and joy, some mason said.
Do you want any more dumplings? asked his wife,
Reminding him that stone dead hath no fellow.
These lamps will help you trace and scrutinize
The capital embroidery, no record
Of labor's names. Perhaps, your program says,
Magic propitiates the gods of fruit.
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