The Mother and Tagore

(in Japan)

Tagore:

I pray, fulfil an ardent choice of mine.
My 'Abode of peace' needs your all-rhythming feet.
Come with me, on the ancient breast of Ind
To found the Lore that makes all reveries sweet.

Mother:

Alas, your choice, a mystic Nay must meet.
My human birth with the golden All must twine.
Although a deep refusal your outer eyes Behold,
Truly, not so; a fire-pure change divine
When the earth from Him shall win by love, —

Tagore,

You too shall hear His triumph's trumpet in Soul's core.