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.