will avy one provide me poem of rabindranath tagoreby today

You can refer to the following poem by Rabindranath Tagore:

Where The Mind Is Without Fear

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

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At The Last Watch

Pity, in place of love,

That pettiest of gifts,Is but a sugar-coating over neglect.Any passerby can make a gift of itTo a street beggar,Only to forget the moment the first corner is turned.I had not hoped for anything more that day.

You left during the last watch of night.

I had hoped you would say goodbye,Just say 'Adieu' before going away,What you had said another day,What I shall never hear again.In their place, just that one word,Bound by the thin fabric of a little compassionWould even that have been too much for you to bear?

When I first awoke from sleepMy heart fluttered with fearLest the time had been over.I rushed out of bed.The distant church clock chimed half past twelveI sat waiting near the door of my roomResting my head against it,Facing the porch through which you would come out.
Even that tiniest of chancesWas snatched away by fate from hapless me;I fell asleepShortly before you left.Perhaps you cast a sidelong glanceAt my reclining bodyLike a broken boat left high and dry.Perhaps you walked away with careLest you wake me up.Awaking with a start I knew at onceThat my vigil had been wastedI realised, what was to go went away in a moment,What was to stay behind stayed onFor all time.
Silence everywhereLike that of a birds' nest bereft of birdsOn the bough of a songless tree.With the lifeless light of the waning moon was now blendedThe pallor of dawnSpreading itself over the greyness of my empty life.I walked towards your bedroomFor no reason.Outside the doorBurnt a smoky lantern covered with soot,The porch smelt of the smouldering wick.Over the abandoned bed the flaps of the rolled-up mosquito-netFluttered a little in the breeze.Seen in the sky outside through the windowWas the morning star,Witness of all sleepless peopleBereft of hope.
Suddenly I found you had left behind by mistakeYour gold-mounted ivory walking stick.If there were time, I thought,You might come back from the station to look for it,But not becauseYou had not seen me before going aw

At The Last Watch

Pity, in place of love,That pettiest of gifts,Is but a sugar-coating over neglect.Any passerby can make a gift of itTo a street beggar,Only to forget the moment the first corner is turned.I had not hoped for anything more that day.You left during the last watch of night.I had hoped you would say goodbye,Just say 'Adieu' before going away,What you had said another day,What I shall never hear again.In their place, just that one word,Bound by the thin fabric of a little compassionWould even that have been too much for you to bear?When I first awoke from sleepMy heart fluttered with fearLest the time had been over.I rushed out of bed.The distant church clock chimed half past twelveI sat waiting near the door of my roomResting my head against it,Facing the porch through which you would come out.Even that tiniest of chancesWas snatched away by fate from hapless me;I fell asleepShortly before you left.Perhaps you cast a sidelong glanceAt my reclining bodyLike a broken boat left high and dry.Perhaps you walked away with careLest you wake me up.Awaking with a start I knew at onceThat my vigil had been wastedI realised, what was to go went away in a moment,What was to stay behind stayed onFor all time.Silence everywhereLike that of a birds' nest bereft of birdsOn the bough of a songless tree.With the lifeless light of the waning moon was now blendedThe pallor of dawnSpreading itself over the greyness of my empty life.I walked towards your bedroomFor no reason.Outside the doorBurnt a smoky lantern covered with soot,The porch smelt of the smouldering wick.Over the abandoned bed the flaps of the rolled-up mosquito-netFluttered a little in the breeze.Seen in the sky outside through the windowWas the morning star,Witness of all sleepless peopleBereft of hope.Suddenly I found you had left behind by mistakeYour gold-mounted ivory walking stick.If there were time, I thought,You might come back from the station to look for it,But not becauseYou had not seen me before going away.

Rabindranath Tagore