When the dole was ended, laughingly she said,

“Master, of a million mouths, is not one unfed?”

Laughing, Shiv made answer, “All have had their part,

Even he, the little one, hidden ‘neath thy heart.”

From her breast she plucked it, Parbati the thief,

Saw the Least of Little Things gnawed a new-grown leaf!

Saw and feared and wondered, making prayer to Shiv,

Who hath surely given meat to all that live.

All things made he — Shiva the Preserver.

Mahadeo! Mahadeo! He made all, —

Thorn for the camel, fodder for the kine,

And mother’s heart for sleepy head, O little son of mine!