#Indians #IndianWriters #NobelPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
If you would have it so, I will e… If it sets your heart aflutter, I… If it suddenly startles you in you… If it confuses you in your flower-… If it makes the water wanton and w…
Where the mind is without fear and… Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broke… domestic walls; Where words come out from the dept…
In the dusky path of a dream I we… Her house stood at the end of a de… In the evening breeze her pet peac… She set her lamp down by the porta… She raised her large eyes to my fa…
She dwelt on the hillside by the edge of a maize-field, near the spring that flows in laughing rills through the solemn shadows of ancient trees. The women came there to fill their jar...
I found a few old letters of mine carefully hidden in thy box—a few small toys for thy memory to play with. With a timorous heart thou didst try to steal these trifles from the...
Early in the day it was whispered… only thou and I, and never a soul… pilgrimage to no country and to no… In that shoreless ocean, at thy silently listening smile my…
Infinite wealth is not yours, my p… You toil to fill the mouths of you… The gift of gladness that you have… The toys that you make for your ch… You cannot satisfy all our hungry…
A wandering madman was seeking the touchstone, with matted locks tawny and dust-laden, and body worn to a shadow, his lips tight-pressed, like the shut-up doors of his heart, his burnin...
Why did he choose to come to my do… As I come in and out I pass by hi… I know not if I should speak to h… The cloudy nights in July are dar… He weaves his songs with fresh tun…
I often wonder where lie hidden th… Through what primal paradise in a… Those marks of their constant trea… Yet suddenly in some wordless musi… It seems that the two friends meet…
In desperate hope I go and search… My house is small and what once ha… But infinite is thy mansion, my lo… I stand under the golden canopy of… I have come to the brink of eterni…
If thou speakest not I will fill… I will keep still and wait like th… and its head bent low with patienc… The morning will surely come, the… and thy voice pour down in golden…
Traveller, must you go? The night is still and the darknes… The lamps are bright in our balcon… Is the time for your parting come? Traveller, must you go?
O woman, you are not merely the ha… Poets are weaving for you a web wi… The sea gives its pearls, the mine… The desire of men's hearts has she… You are one half woman and one hal…
Speak to me, my love! Tell me in words what you sang. The night is dark. The stars are lost in clouds. The wind is sighing through the leaves. I will let loose my hair. My blue cloa...