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A flower from Albania,
Had made its home in India,
And blossomed into beauteous form,
Despite the world’s, many a storm.
It grew in wisdom, divinity,
Perfuming Kolkata city;
And served the poor, both young and old,
Mitigating sufferings untold.
She went into the town’s small streets,
And covered invalids with sheets;
She brought back smiles to faces sad,
And made the orphaned hearts so glad.
A single soul, rescued more souls,
By playing caring, saving roles;
She lit the dark alleys of town,
And grew the seeds of love thus sown.
The flower left its many seeds,
To grow up tall, amidst some weeds;
Each plant stays blessed by Almighty,
-A boon for poor in a city.
HER LIFE WAS JUST EXEMPLARY,
BOUND TO THE HOLY ROSARY;
SHE SACRIFICED HER LIFE FOR CHRIST;
SHE FOUND TRUE JOY IN MAKER FIRST.
Dedicated fondly to the Saint
On her 100th Birth Anniversary
Copyright by Dr John Celes 26-08-2010