Playthings Poem by Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore

Calcutta (Kolkata), Bengal Presidency / British India

Playthings

Rating: 2.8


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.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Geeta Radhakrishna Menon 13 April 2020

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 13 February 2020

thanks you help me in my exam

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Ghhfdzxfghncdgk 20 February 2019

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Durgesh yadav 29 October 2018

Please send the summary of the poem

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Vipin Varghese 19 October 2007

Please Write The Summary Along With The Poem.

14 3 Reply

Rabindranath Tagore

Calcutta (Kolkata), Bengal Presidency / British India
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