The Grace Of The Mother. Poem by Subrata Ray

From A Son To His Divine Mother(-Saroda.)
I wish to be a mad,
A mother-loran lad,
With one stay in life,
I have my mother,
In dark and gloomy strife.

No wealth I trace,
Save mother's grace,
And turmoil and death I invite,
Only I cherish a live-mother-sight.

I have my mother,
I need not bother,
For the things that come and go,
In all mother is there I know.

Her grace is unasked and supernatural,
No treasure to her is parallel,
She labors this universe by Her will,
I am her child, and in Her deal.