Best Poems of Rabindranath Tagore

Best Poems of Rabindranath Tagore…

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), made notable contributions to literature as a poet, novelist, story writer, painter, educator, patriot, philosopher, and social reformer. He was the first non-European to receive the world-famous Noble Prize in Literature for his remarkable Poetic collection- ‘Gitanjali’ i.e. Devotion to God. He also played an important role in the freedom struggle of India against colonial rule. He was famous as ‘Gurudev’. 

He wrote both in English and Bengali. His famous poetic works are ‘The Gitanjali’, ‘The Crescent Moon’, ‘The Gardener’, ‘Fruit Gathering’, etc. Some of his novels are ‘Gora’, ‘The Home’, and ‘The Wreek’. ‘The Home Coming’, and ‘The Kabuli Wallah’ are his fine short stories. ‘Jan Gan Mana’ National Anthem of India, and ‘Amar Sonar Bangla’ was composed by Tagore.


Best Poems of Rabindranath Tagore


 1. Where The Mind Is Without Fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments 

by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;

Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards the perfection;

Where the clear strem of reason has not 

lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habits;

Where the mind is lead forward by three into ever-widening thought and action-

Into that haeven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.


2. Freedom

Freedom from fear is the freedom

I claim for you my motherland!

Freedom from the burden of the ages,

bending your head,

breaking your back, blinding your eyes to the beckoning

Call of the future;

From the shackles of slumber wherewith

You fasten yourself in night’s stillness,

mistrusting the star that speaks of truth’s adventurous paths;

Freedom from the Anarchy of destiny

whole sails are weekly yielded to the blind uncertain winds,

and the helm to a hand every rigid and cold as death.

Freedom from the insult of dwelling in a Puppet’s world

where movements are started through brainless wires,

repeated through mindless habits,

where figure wait with patience

and obedience for the master of show,

to be stirred into a mimicry of life.


3. Chain of Pearls

Mother, I shall weave a chain

of pearls for thy neck

with my tears of sorrow.

The stars have wrought their 

anklets of light to deck thy feet,

but mine will hnag upon thy breast.

Wealth and fame come from thee

and it is for thee to give or to withhold them.

But this my sorrow is 

absolutely mine own,

and when I bring it to thee as my offering

thou rewardest me with thy grace.


4. Life of my Life

Life of my life,  I shall ever try to keep my body pure,

knowing that thy living touch is upon all my limbs.

I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts,

knowing that thou art that truth which has kindled

the light of reason in my mind.

I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart

and keep my love in flower, knowing that 

thou hast thy seat in the inmost shrine of my heart.

And it shall be my endeavor to reveal thee in my actions,

knowing it is thy power gives me strength to act.


5. Pluck This Little Flower

Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not!

I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.

I may not find a place in thy garland.

but honour it with a touch of pain

from thy hand and pluck it.

I fear lest the day end

before I am aware, and the time of offering go by.

Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint,

use this flower in thy service and pluck it

while there is time.


6. Fruit Gathering

My life when young was like a flower- a flower

that loosens a petal or two from

her abundance and never feels the loss

when the spring breeze comes to beg at the door.

Now at the end of youth my life is like a fruit,

having nothing to spare, and

waiting to offer herself completely with her full

burden of sweetness.


Is summer’s festival only for fresh 

blossoms and not also for withered

leaves and faded flowers?

Is the song of the sea in tune only with the rising waves?

Does it not also sing with the waves that fall?

Jewels are woven into the carpet where 

stands my king, but there are patient clods 

waiting to be touched by his feet.

Few are the wise and the great who sit by

my Master, but he has taken the foolish in

his arms and made me his servant forever.


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