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.