In a cool arbor far from courtly strife,
Close by the Jumna, winding on its way.
In silence played they long their game of chess,
But Jehan's eyes rose oft to Mahal's brow,
His ardent love he could not well repress,
Nor tried—she was his own rich jewel now.
He stayed the game to breathe some words of love
And press her lips with lips that knew no guile,
And felt the thrill, and peace like white-winged dove
Flew down, and she repaid with loving smile.