Let....... Let me not forget Thee, Mother! Even for a moment's time, I will cast away all other Thoughts that with Thee do not rhyme.   Let my heart be one large hive Where Thy million memories Fraught with all Thy nectars five Throng like sweet celestial bees.   Let my peak-borne Manas lake Dreaming on a moon-white bed Of eternal peace awake, Thrilling greet Thy nearing tread.   Let my life flow in a flood Of rare rhythms that are Thy own, Caught in a high-pitched God ward mood That should fill my very bone.   Let my ardent service day Bea

LOTUS GROVE     PUJALAL Lotus Grove     PUJALAL   SRI AUROBINDO ASHRAM PONDICHERRY     First Edition : November 1977         Price : Rs. 16.00             © Sri Aurobindo Ashram Trust 1977 Published by Pujalal, Sri Aurobindo Ashram, Pondicherry Printed at Sri Aurobindo Ashram Press, Pondicherry PRINTED IN INDIA

    He and You are One My hymns to Him are hymns to You; For He and You are one: You are His radiating light, And He the eternal Sun.   When I repeat His name I feel That You respond to it; You are, I'm sure, His other self At whose feet we may sit.   Where'er You be He is present there In His majestic mood; Inseparably one you are both In your mother-fatherhood.   He speaks to us in Your sweet voice, And blesses with Your hand; Your touch is His, maternal made, As I can understand.   Your smiles of grace bloom in His hear

ROSARY Page-136 THE MOTHER : Kali Puja : 10.11.58   1   Sweet Mother! grant that we may simply be, From now and always for all time to come, Thy little children growing happily In Thy great heart of Love, our brightest home.   2   Thou art the sweetest flower ever known; Thy heart, all nectar's fountain, never dries; We'll fly to Thee and claim Thee as our own, Sweet Mother! we Thy baby butterflies.   3   Our day begins not with morn's roses fine, But, Mother! only when we can behold The glory of Thy beauty's dawn divine,

    ' Tis Meetest Pray do not call me yours from now, And come to claim me; for To the Mother I belong, I vow. And to none else any more.   I am the Mother's little child, And so She too has said; I'm Mother's truly, She has smiled And spread on me Her shade.   I wonder why you want to make Unwilling ones your own; When Mother's there to undertake To be yours flesh and bone.   Let me alone, I will not bother You with anything; Let me alone with my Sweet Mother Whose name I'll always sing.   Call me not yours, and use no force; I

INTRODUCTION The Purna Yoga of Transformation that has evolved from the guidance of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother at the Master's Ashram situated on the Coromandel Coast in South India has attracted thousands of aspirants from all over the world. This Spiritual Centre of the Maha yogi of Pondicherry was envisaged many thousands of years ago by the great Rishi Augusta when he foretold of the coming of the greatest yogi from the North who would establish his asana, seat, for an integral world-yoga where East and West would find their ultimate synthesis. This yogic prediction was also confirmed in the songs and poems of another great yogi, Swami Rama-lingum who predicted the same co

LOTUS PETALS   Au Revoir How long shall this au revoir last, Mother sweet! Thy Presence comes, but it goes too fast On lightning feet. It brings with it the blissful ray, Serenely pure, The golden dawn, the promised day, Dark sorrow's cure. Thy breath awakes me in an air With star-bloom scented; Where floats my dream-world fine and fair To which tormented Souls like mine would fain retire For rhythmed rest Engulfed in Love's entrancing fire, In Eternity's breast. Thy holy touch with magic power, (Too little enduring!) Brings t

    Mother Mahakali   A limpid lightning-flame in tempest-dance On the breast of Time prostrate and motionless, Star-sparks through space fly forth from Her fire intense And the stress of Her steps whose speed no light can trace.   She leaps to break the pride of Titan might And win for God His Kingdoms lost to Death; Her glowing glance drives through the core of Night; None can withstand Her crimson flash of wrath.   A moment of Her pressing white heat scores Achievements great where failed a sluggish age; For Fate in awe Her conquering flame adores That packs with glories

      The Moon   On silver skates the moon is gliding Over heavens of icy blue, And swimming clouds with their snow-dust are hiding Her lovely face of milk-foam hue.   How her rich gossamer hair is flowing And the ether-winds with joy are athrill; The stars are frozen light-drops glowing In her tresses like sparkling points in a rill.   Alluring the smile upon her face; Her heart is a fountain of delight, All gloom dissolves in her light's embrace, Love's eyes of dream grow awake and bright.   10-11-1930   Be Gone Be

-01_Author's Note AUTHOR'S NOTE I had never even dreamt of writing Poetry in English, although I was familiar with writing it in my mother-tongue, Gujarati, since my High School days. But it so happened that in the early years of our Ashram here a movement of writing poems in English started and a few enthusiasts launched upon that enterprise with Harin Chattopadhyay as a brilliant example before them. I too was one of such enthusiasts and although I was poorly equipped with the knowledge of English and English poetry I began to exercise my pen and with the Mother's and Sri Aurobindo's inner and outer encouragement and ever-ready help had not much difficulty in making a tolerably good beginning