Footfalls

We hear them, O Mother ! 
Thy footfalls, 
Soft, soft, through the ages 
Touching earth here and there. 
And the lotuses left on Thy footprints 
Are cities historic. 
Ancient scriptures and poems and temples. 
Noble strivings, stern struggles for Right. 

Where lead they, O Mother ! 
Thy footfalls ? 
O grant us to drink of their meaning ! 
Grant us the vision that blindeth 
The thought that for man is too high. 
Where lead they, O Mother ! 
Thy footfalls ? 

Approach Thou, O Mother, Deliverer ! 
Thy children. Thy nurslings are we ! 
On our hearts be the place for Thy stepping, 
Thine own, Bhuma Devi, are we. 
Where lead they, O Mother ! 
Thy footfalls ? 

- Margaret Noble


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