Poems begining by T
/ page 804 of 916 /The Gardener LXIV: I Spent My Day
© Rabindranath Tagore
I spent my day on the scorching
hot dust of the road.
Now, in the cool of the evening, I
knock at the door of the inn. It is
The Gardener LXI: Peace, My Heart
© Rabindranath Tagore
Peace, my heart, let the time for
the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain
The Gardener LV: It Was Mid-Day
© Rabindranath Tagore
It was mid-day when you went
away .
The sun was strong in the sky.
I had done my work and sat alone
The Gardener LIX: O Woman
© Rabindranath Tagore
O woman, you are not merely the
handiwork of God, but also of men;
these are ever endowing you with
beauty from their hearts.
The Gardener LI: Then Finish the Last Song
© Rabindranath Tagore
Then finish the last song and let us
leave.
Forget this night when the night is
no more.
The Gardener IX: When I Go Alone at Night
© Rabindranath Tagore
When I go alone at night to my
love-tryst, birds do not sing, the wind
does not stir, the houses on both sides
of the street stand silent.
The Gardener IV: Ah Me
© Rabindranath Tagore
Ah me, why did they build my
house by the road to the market
town?
They moor their laden boats near
The Further Bank
© Rabindranath Tagore
I long to go over there to the further bank of the river.
Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line;
Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with
ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields;
The Flower-School
© Rabindranath Tagore
When storm-clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down.
The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its
bagpipes among the bamboos.
Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows
The First Jasmines
© Rabindranath Tagore
Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines!
I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with
these jasmines, these white jasmines.
I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth;
The End
© Rabindranath Tagore
It is time for me to go, mother; I am going.
When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you stretch out
your arms for your baby in the bed, I shall say, "Baby is not
here!"-mother, I am going.
The Child-Angel
© Rabindranath Tagore
They clamour and fight, they doubt and despair, they know no end
to their wrangling.
Let your life come amongst them like a flame of light, my
child, unflickering and pure, and delight them into silence.
The Chanpa Flower
© Rabindranath Tagore
Supposing I became a chanpa flower, just for fun, and grew on a
branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and
danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me, mother?
You would call, "Baby, where are you?" and I should laugh to
The Boat
© Rabindranath Tagore
I must launch out my boat.
The languid hours pass by on the
shore---Alas for me!
The Beginning
© Rabindranath Tagore
"Where have I come from, where did you pick me up?" the baby asked
its mother.
She answered, half crying, half laughing, and clasping the
baby to her breast-
The Banyan Tree
© Rabindranath Tagore
O you shaggy-headed banyan tree standing on the bank of the pond,
have you forgotten the little chile, like the birds that have
nested in your branches and left you?
Do you not remember how he sat at the window and wondered at
The Astronomer
© Rabindranath Tagore
I only said, "When in the evening the round full moon gets
entangled among the beaches of that Dadam tree, couldn't somebody
catch it?"
But dada laughed at me and said, "Baby, you are the silliest
To the Moon
© Giacomo Leopardi
Oh gracious moon, now as the year turns,
I remember how, heavy with sorrow,
I climbed this hill to gaze on you,
And then as now you hung above those trees
To Silvia
© Giacomo Leopardi
Silvia, do you remember
the moments, in your mortal life,
when beauty still shone
in your sidelong, laughing eyes,
To Himself
© Giacomo Leopardi
Now will you rest forever,
My tired heart. Dead is the last
deception,
That I thought eternal. Dead. Well I