Rabindranath Tagore Poems

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Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore (7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941), also known by the sobriquet Gurudev,ä[›] was a Bengali poet, Brahmo Samaj philosopher, visual artist, playwright, novelist, and composer whose works reshaped Bengali literature and music in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. He became Asia's first Nobel laureate when he won the 1913 Nobel Prize in Literature. A Pirali Bengali Brahmin from Calcutta, Tagore first wrote poems at the age of eight. At the age of sixteen, he published his first substantial poetry under the pseudonym Bhanushingho ("Sun Lion") and wrote his first short stories and dramas in 1877. His home schooling, life in Shilaidaha, and travels made Tagore a nonconformist and pragmatist. Tagore strongly protested against the British Raj and gave his support to the Indian Independence Movement and Mahatma Gandhi. Tagore's life was tragic—he lost virtually his entire family and was devastated to witness Bengal's decline—but his life's work endured, in the form of his poetry and the institution he founded, Visva-Bharati University.

on the nature of love
 
 
The night is black and the forest has no end;
a million people thread it in a million ways.... [read poem]
on the grave of a child in morwenstow churchyard
 
 
Those whom God loves die young;
They see no evil days;
No falsehood taints their tongu... [read poem]
the child
 
 
The first flush of dawn glistens on the dew-dripping leaves of the forest.
The man who reads th... [read poem]
the elements
 
 
There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium,
And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium... [read poem]
national brotherhood week
 
 
Oh, the white folks hate the black folks,
And the black folks hate the white folks;
To hat... [read poem]
modryb marya -- aunt mary
 
 
Now of all the trees by the king's highway,
Which do you love the best?
O! the one tha... [read poem]
the song of the western men
 
 
A good sword and a trusty hand!
A merry heart and true!
King James's men shall underst... [read poem]
the wail of the cornish mother
 
 
They say 'tis a sin to sorrow,
That what God doth is best:
But 'tis only a month to-mo... [read poem]
a croon on hennacliff
 
 
Thus said the rushing raven,
Unto his hungry mate, --
"Ho! gossip! for Bude Haven:... [read poem]
last poems #13
 
 
The first day's sun
questioned
the new appearance of being –
Who are you?
There ... [read poem]
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