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.

```

From:Sri Chinmoy,The Mother of the Golden All, Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press, Pondicherry, 1974
Sourced from https://srichinmoylibrary.com/mga