Rabindranath Tagore was one of the most fierce, popular and accomplished poets and revolutionaries. He was born in Kolkata in 1861 and since childhood had an interest in literature and poems. By the age of 8, he started writing poems in Bengali.

In 1913, Rabindranath Tagore became the first Asian and Indian to win a Nobel Prize in Literature. Rabindranath Tagore was a fierce tackler of the British Raj and contributed his part in the revolution against the Britishers in the form of poems and short stories.

 

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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 perfection

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way

Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit

Where the mind is led forward by thee

Into ever-widening thought and action

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

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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;

Freedom 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 weakly yielded to the blind uncertain winds,

and the helm to a hand ever 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 figures wait with patience and obedience for the

master of show,

to be stirred into a mimicry of life.

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Waiting

The song I came to sing

remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in stringing

and in unstringing my instrument.

 

The time has not come true,

the words have not been rightly set;

only there is the agony

of wishing in my heart…..

 

I have not seen his face,

nor have I listened to his voice;

only I have heard his gentle footsteps

from the road before my house…..

 

But the lamp has not been lit

and I cannot ask him into my house;

I live in the hope of meeting with him;

but this meeting is not yet. 

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Patience

If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and endure it.

I will keep still and wait like the night with starry vigil

and its head bent low with patience.

 

The morning will surely come, the darkness will vanish,

and their voices pour down in golden streams breaking through the sky.

 

Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds' nests,

and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my forest groves.

 

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Endless Time

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.

There is none to count thy minutes.

 

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.

Thou knowest how to wait.

 

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

 

We have no time to lose,

and having no time we must scramble for a chance.

We are too poor to be late.

 

And thus it is that time goes by

while I give it to every querulous man who claims it,

and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

 

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut;

but I find that yet there is time.

 

 

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Friend

Art thou abroad on this stormy night

on thy journey of love, my friend?

The sky groans like one in despair.

 

I have no sleep tonight.

Ever and again I open my door and look out on

the darkness, my friend!

 

I can see nothing before me.

I wonder where lies their path!

 

By what dim shore of the ink-black river,

by what far edge of the frowning forest,

through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading

thy course to come to me, my friend?

 

 

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Gitanjali

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life. 

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new. 

At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable. 

Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

 

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On the nature of love

The night is black and the forest has no end;

a million people thread it in a million ways.

We have trysts to keep in the darkness, but where

or with whom - of that we are unaware.

But we have this faith - that a lifetime's bliss

will appear any minute, with a smile upon its lips.

Scents, touches, sounds, snatches of songs

brush us, pass us, give us delightful shocks.

Then peradventure there's a flash of lightning:

whomever I see that instant I fall in love with.

I call that person and cry: `This life is blest!

for your sake such miles have I traversed!'

All those others who came close and moved off

in the darkness - I don't know if they exist or not.

 

 

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Paper Boats

Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running

stream.

In big black letters I write my name on them and the name of

the village where I live.

I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and

know who I am.

I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and

hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land

in the night.

I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the

little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.

I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down

the air to race with my boats!

When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my

paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.

The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins

their baskets full of dreams.

 

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Defamation

Where are those tears in your eyes, my child?

    How horrid of them to be always scolding you for nothing!

    You have stained your fingers and face with ink while writing-

Is that why they call you dirty?

    O, fie! Would they dare to call the full moon dirty because

it has smudged its face with ink?

    For every little trifle they blame you, my child. They are

ready to find fault for nothing.

    You tore your clothes while playing-is that why they call you

untidy?

    O, fie! What would they call an autumn morning that smiles

through its ragged clouds?

    Take no heed of what they say to you, my child.

    They make a long list of your misdeeds.

    Everybody knows how you love sweet things-is that why they

Call you greedy?

    O, fie! What then would they call us who love you? 

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Little Of Me

Let only that little be left of me

whereby I may name thee my all.

 

Let only that little be left of my will

whereby I may feel thee on every side,

and come to thee in everything,

and offer to thee my love every moment.

 

Let only that little be left of me

whereby I may never hide thee.

Let only that little of my fetters be left

whereby I am bound with thy will,

and thy purpose is carried out in my life—-and that is the fetter of thy love.

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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 perfection

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way

Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit

Where the mind is led forward by thee

Into ever-widening thought and action

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

rabindranath-tagore-poems013

Little Flute

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail

vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.

 

This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,

and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.

 

At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in

joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.

 

Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.

Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.

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Give Me Strength

This is my prayer to thee, my lord—-strike,

strike at the root of penury in my heart.

Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.

Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.

Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.

Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.

And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love.

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Moments Indulgence

I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works

that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.

 

Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,

and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of toil.

 

Today the summer has come at my window with its signs and murmurs; and

The bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the flowering grove.

 

Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to sing

dedication of life in this silent and overflowing leisure.

 

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The Gift

I want to give you something, my child, for we are drifting in the

stream of the world.

    Our lives will be carried apart, and our love forgotten.

    But I am not so foolish as to hope that I could buy your heart

with my gifts.

    Young is your life, your path long, and you drink the love we

bring you at one draught and turn and run away from us.

    You have your play and your playmates. What harm is there if

you have no time or thought for us!

    We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age to count the days

that are past, to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lost

forever.

    The river runs swift with a song, breaking through all

barriers. But the mountain stays and remembers, and follows her

with his love. 

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Purity

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 endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing it

is thy power gives me strength to act.

 

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Distant Time

I know not from what distant time

thou art ever coming nearer to meet me.

Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for aye.

 

In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard

and thy messenger has come within my heart and called me in secret.

 

I know not only why today my life is all astir,

and a feeling of tremulous joy is passing through my heart.

 

It is as if the time were come to wind up my work,

and I feel in the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.

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Free Love

By all means they try to hold me secure who loves me in this world.

But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than theirs,

and thou keepest me free.

 

Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone.

But day passes by after day and thou art not seen.

 

If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart,

thy love for me still waits for my love.

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Stream Of Life

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day

runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

 

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth

in numberless blades of grass

and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

 

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth

and of death, in ebb and in flow.

 

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.

And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

 

Talking of education, Tagore studied Law at the University College, London and practised Law in Bengal. After this, he began to move his focus completely to literature and wrote poems in Bengali and English naming a few.

Tagore not only worked in India, but he also went to England, Germany, Hungary and France. Tagore is referred to as the "Bard of Bengal" not only for his contributions to the Bengali literature but also for heading the revolutionary movement in Bengal.

Among the major contributions and writing of Tagore, some of the most popular are:

  • National Anthem of India
  • National Anthem of Bangladesh
  • Gitanjali
  • Gora
  • Ghare-Baire
  • Ekla Chalo Re
  • Chitto Jetha Bhayshunyo

Rabindranath Tagore wrote poems, short stories, essays, compilations, translations, etc. His main theme of work was focused on society and human behaviour. Though Tagore wrote many forms of literature, his most popular and widely remembered literature form is poems.

Starting from the age of 8, he wrote poems about nature and love in his mother tongue, Bengali. In his school and college days, he met many interesting people and learnt their stories which became the epicentre of his poetic work.

He wrote essays in some Bengali newspapers and magazines about Politics which made him the face of the revolution in Bengal. After college, he went on to become the most popular poet in India, all thanks to his epic of Geetanjali.

Alongside poems, the one form of Literature that Tagore did not only excel but also was popular was story writing. In 1938, Tagore delivered one of the masterpiece stories, Chandalika.

Chandalika is based on the sensitive topic of the Caste System in Hindu society. To the art and poem lovers, Tagore is not only an inspiration but is a source of never-ending knowledge and spirit.

His poems, stories, essays, etc. keep inspiring the generations over the years, and they'll do in the future.

 

Final Thoughts

Rabindranath Tagore's writing has not only inspired Indians but also has been the motivational force of many international poets. The Sri Lankan National Anthem was inspired by the writings of Rabindranath Tagore.

Even today, Tagore is seen as a fatherly figure in the world of literature as his simple and subtle rhymes have created many poets in and around the various states of India. If you liked these poems, don’t forget to share the list with others so that they can enjoy them as well!

 

Top 20 Rabindranath Tagore Poems"Freedom" 

  1. "Where The Mind Is Without Fear"
  2. "Waiting"
  3. "Patience"
  4. "Endless Time"
  5. "Friend"
  6. "Gitanjali"
  7. "On the nature of love"
  8. "Paper Boats"
  9. "Defamation"
  10. "Little Of Me"
  11. "Where The Mind Is Without Fear"
  12. "Little Flute"
  13. "Give Me Strength"
  14. "Moments Indulgence"
  15. "Purity"
  16. "The Gift"
  17. "Distant Time"
  18. "Free Love"
  19. "Stream Of Life"

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