India taught me to love
The soul of deathless beauty in the dewdrop or the bubble,
Not their fragile frames.
Her sages taught me to find my Self
Buried beneath the ash heaps
Of incarnations and ignorance.
Through many a land
Of power, plenty, and science,
My soul, garbed as an Oriental
Or an Occidental, traveled far and wide,
Seeking Itself:
At last in India to find Itself.
Hail, mother of religions, lotus, scenic beauty, and sages!
Thy wide doors are open,
Welcoming God’s true sons though all ages,
Where Ganges, woods, Himalayan caves and men dream God.
I am hallowed; my body touched that sod!
For the complete poem, see Whispers from Eternity, 1958 edition.
