A Hymn to Shri Ramakrishna

A Hymn to Shri Ramakrishna

No One to Blame

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AN INTERESTING CORRESPONDENCE ( In order to truly appreciate this correspondence, the reader has to be informed of the occasion which gave rise to it and also to remember the relation that existed between the correspondents. At the outset of the first letter the Swami speaks of "the hard raps" that he gave to this correspondent. These were nothing but a very strong letter which he wrote to her in vindication of his position on the 1st February, 1895, which will be found reproduced in the fifth volume of the Complete Works of the Swami. It was a very beautiful letter full of the fire of a Sannysin's spirit, and we request our readers to go through it before they peruse the following text. Mary Hale, to whom the Swami wrote, was one of the two daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Hale whom the Swami used to address as Father Pope and Mother Church. The Misses Hales and their two cousins were like sisters to him, and they also in their turn held the Swami in great love and reverence. Some of the finest letters of the Swami were written to them.

In the present correspondence the Swami is seen in a new light, playful and intensely human, yet keyed to the central theme of his life, Brahmajnna. The first letter was written from New York, 15th February 1895 - Ed.) Now Sister Mary,

You need not be sorry

For the hard raps I gave you, You know full well,

Though you like me tell,

With my whole heart I love you.

The babies I bet,

The best friends I met,

Will stand by me in weal and woe. And so will I do,

You know it too.

Life, name, or fame, even heaven forgo For the sweet sisters four

Sans reproche et sans peur,

The truest, n.o.blest, steadfast, best.

The wounded snake its hood unfurls, In warp and woof of thought are set, Earth, h.e.l.ls, and heavens, or worst or best.

Know these are but the outer crust - All s.p.a.ce and time, all effect, cause. I am beyond all sense, all thoughts, The witness of the universe.

Not two or many, 'tis but one, And thus in me all me's I have; I cannot hate, I cannot shun Myself from me, I can but love.

From dreams awake, from bonds be free, Be not afraid. This mystery,

My shadow, cannot frighten me,

Know once for all that I am He.

Well, so far my poetry. Hope you are all right. Give my love to mother and Father Pope. I am busy to death and have almost no time to write even a line. So excuse me if later on I am rather late in writing.

Yours eternally,

VIVEKANANDA.

Miss M.B.H. sent Swami the following doggerel in reply:

The monk he would a poet be And wooed the muse right earnestly; In thought and word he could well beat her, What bothered him though was the metre.

His feet were all too short too long, The form not suited to his song; He tried the sonnet, lyric, epic,

And worked so hard, he waxed dyspeptic.

While the poetic mania lasted

He e'en from vegetables fasted,

Which Leon (Leon Landberg, a disciple of the Swami who lived with him for some

time.) had with tender care

Prepared for Swami's dainty fare. One day he sat and mused alone - Sudden a light around him shone,

The "still small voice" his thoughts inspire And his words glow like coals of fire.