The mother's heart, the hero's will,
The sweetness of the southern breeze,
The sacred charm and strength that dwell
On Aryan altars, flaming, free;
All these be yours, and many more
No ancient soul could dream before -
Be thou to India's future son
The mistress, servant, friend in one.
Swami Vivekananda
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-benediction/
