Mera Bharath Mahan

Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, 'This is my own, my native land!' Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd As home his footsteps he hath turn'd 5 From wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; 10 Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 15 Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung Sir Walter Scott. 1771–1832 My mother may be ugly ..my mother may be diseased...still she is my mother and that makes her more valuable to me than all the beautiful women in the world put together.....