From: Savitri : Book-4, Canto-1

A Mother-wisdom works in Nature’s breast

A Mother wisdom works in Nature’s breast

To pour delight on the heart of toil and want

And press perfection on life’s stumbling powers,

Impose heaven-sentience on the obscure abyss

And make dumb Matter conscious of its God. ||94.8||

Although our fallen minds forget to climb,

Although our human stuff resists or breaks,

She keeps her will that hopes to divinise clay;

Failure cannot repress, defeat o’erthrow;

Time cannot weary her nor the Void subdue,

The ages have not made her passion less;

No victory she admits of Death or Fate. ||94.9||

Always she drives the souls to new attempt;

Always her magical infinitude

Forces to aspire the inert brute elements;

As one who has all infinity to waste,

She scatters the seed of the Eternal’s strength

On a half-animate and crumbling mould,

Plants heaven’s delight in the heart’s passionate mire,

Pours godhead’s seekings into a bare beast frame,

Hides immortality in a mask of death. ||94.10||