poet Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore

#9 on top 500 poets

Playthings

Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.
I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.
I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.
Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!"
Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.
I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.
With whatever you find you create your glad games, I spend both my time and my strength over things I never can obtain.
In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game.

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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Comments about Playthings by Rabindranath Tagore

  • Geeta Radhakrishna MenonGeeta Radhakrishna Menon (4/13/2020 3:00:00 AM)

    A very interesting poem. The innocent child is one with nature and is happy and carefree.
    While the man is so desirous and materialistic, that he can no more be happy. Only Gurudev could infuse deep philosophy into his poetic expressions.......10

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  • madhavi (2/13/2020 7:44:00 AM)

    thanks you help me in my exam

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  • Ghhfdzxfghncdgk (2/20/2019 5:09:00 AM)

    Jzttsitstzitziztizjzitzititsiitutaitaitaitstisizizktzzkgzkgzktz

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  • Durgesh yadav (10/29/2018 10:46:00 AM)

    Please send the summary of the poem

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  • Vipin Varghese (10/19/2007 5:07:00 AM)

    Please Write The Summary Along With The Poem.

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    14 person liked.
    3 person did not like.

Rating Card

2,8 out of 5
53 total ratings
rate this poem



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Read poems about / on: child, strength, silver, happy, smile, sea, time, children