Books with title The crescent moon

The Crescent Moon"" is a culmination of the saint in poetry, an eternal song of mother love and childrens simplicity, a colorful picture that weaves dreams into reality. The Crescent Moon is mainly translated from the Bengali poetry anthology Childrens Anthology published in 1903, some of which are created in English directly. In the anthology, the poet describes vividly childrens games and shows skillfully childrens psychology as well as their lively imagination. Under the guide of its special and meaningful artistic charm, we can step into the pure childrens world and bring back our wonderful childhood memories.

Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), also known by the sobriquet Gurudev, was a Bengali poet, Brahmo Samaj philosopher, visual artist, playwright, novelist, and composer whose works reshaped Bengali literature and music in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. A cultural icon of Bengal and India, he became Asia's first Nobel laureate when he won the 1913 Nobel Prize in Literature. A Pirali Bengali Brahmin from Calcutta, Tagore first wrote poems at age eight. He published his first substantial poetry under the pseudonym Bhanushingho (Sun Lion). Tagore's works included numerous novels, short-stories, collection of songs, dance-drama, political and personal essays. Some prominent examples are Gora (Fair-Faced) (1910), Gitanjali (Song Offerings) (1912), and Ghare-Baire (The Home and the World) (1919). His verse, short stories, and novels-many defined by rhythmic lyricism, colloquial language, meditative naturalism, and philosophical contemplation-received worldwide acclaim. His other works include The King of the Dark Chamber (1914), The Gardener (1915), Songs of Kabir (1915), Fruit-Gathering (1916), Stray Birds (1916), The Hungry Stones and Other Stories (1916) and Glimpses of Bengal (1920).

Included in this new edition :1. Biography of the Author Rabindranath Tagore2. Active table of contents3. Complete original content without any changes.The Crescent Moon - By Rabindranath Tagore - Translated from the original Bengali by the author. Children’s Poetry I PACED alone on the road across the field while the sunset was hiding its last gold like a miser. The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent. Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of the evening. His village home lay there at the end of the waste land, beyond the sugar-cane field, hidden among the shadows of the banana and the slender areca palm, the cocoa-nut and the dark green jack-fruit trees. I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight, and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mothers' hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that knows nothing of its value for the world.

The Crescent Moon - By Rabindranath Tagore - Translated from the original Bengali by the author. Children’s Poetry I PACED alone on the road across the field while the sunset was hiding its last gold like a miser. The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent. Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of the evening. His village home lay there at the end of the waste land, beyond the sugar-cane field, hidden among the shadows of the banana and the slender areca palm, the cocoa-nut and the dark green jack-fruit trees. I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight, and saw spread before me the darkened earth surrounding with her arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mothers' hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that knows nothing of its value for the world.

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. To ensure a quality reading experience, this work has been proofread and republished using a format that seamlessly blends the original graphical elements with text in an easy-to-read typeface.We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

This is a pre-1923 historical reproduction that was curated for quality. Quality assurance was conducted on each of these books in an attempt to remove books with imperfections introduced by the digitization process. Though we have made best efforts - the books may have occasional errors that do not impede the reading experience. We believe this work is culturally important and have elected to bring the book back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. This text refers to the Bibliobazaar edition.

I PACED alone on the road across the field while the sunset was hiding its last gold like a miser.The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the widowed land, whose harvesthad been reaped, lay silent.Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed the dark unseen, leaving the trackof his song across the hush of the evening.His village home lay there at the end of the waste land, beyond the sugar-cane field, hiddenamong the shadows of the banana and the slender areca palm, the cocoa-nut and the dark greenjack-fruit trees.I stopped for a moment in my lonely way under the starlight, and saw spread before me thedarkened earth surrounding with her arms countless homes furnished with cradles and beds, mothers' hearts and evening lamps, and young lives glad with a gladness that knows nothing ofits value for the world

I paced alone on the road across the field while the sunset was hiding its last gold like a miser. The daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness, and the widowed land, whose harvest had been reaped, lay silent. Suddenly a boy's shrill voice rose into the sky. He traversed the dark unseen, leaving the track of his song across the hush of the evening.