Pure and Gold
…..
They rise, two domes, one white, one gold, and knurled
Like pleated manna ice cream, exotic,
Exoticism of the East, a world
Away. Here they are, almost erotic
Because they are so beautiful and shaped
Like love, or like our loves should be. The touch
Of India, of India escaped,
They offer. Ogee shapes are far too much
Of oriental loveliness to be
On this horizon (industrial, bland,
Low—functional). They are the apogee
Of graceful ancient faith, lissom and grand.
The Golden Temple, Amritsar, comes here
….To outer London from a sacred sphere.