Patriotic poems in the Indian Scenario

Patriotic poems are a great read. Specially if the occasion is the celebration of Independence Day. Given here are some classical poems that remind us of the great souls of India.
Freedom from Iron in Water

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-widenning
thought and action-
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

To India - My Native Land

My country! in thy day of glory past
A beautious halo circled round thy brow,
And worshipped as a deity thou wast.
Where is that glory, where that reverence now?
Thy eagle pinion is chained down at last.
And gorvelling in the lowly dust art thou;
Thy minstrel hath no wreath to weave for thee
Save the sad story of thy misery!
Well- let me dive into the depths of time,
And bring from out the ages that have rolled
A few small fragments or those wrecks sublime,
Which human eyes may never more behold;
And let the guerdon of my labour be
My fallen country! one kind wish from thee!

~ Henry Louis Vivian Derozio

King Porus - A Legend of Old

But where, oh! where is Porus now?
And where the noble hearts that bled
For freedom - with the heroic glow
In patriot bosoms nourished -
-Hearts, eagle-like that 'recked not death,
But shrank before foul Thraldom's breath?
And where art thou- fair freedom!- thou
Once goodness of Ind's sunny clime!
When glory's halo round her brow
Shone radiant, and she rose sublime.
Like her own towering Himale
To kiss the blue clouds thron'd on high!
Clime of the sun! - how like a Dream-
How like bright sun-beams on a stream
that melt beneath gray twilight's eye-
That glory hath now flitted by!
The crown that once did deck thy brow
Is trampled down - and thou sank low;
Thy pearl, thy diamond and thy mine
Of glistening gold no more is thine.
Alas! - each conquering tyrant's lust
Has robb'd thee of thy very dust!
Thou standest like a lofty tree
Shorn of fruits - blossoms - leaves and all-
Of every gale the sport to be,
Despised and scorned e'en in thy fall?

~ Adopted from 'King Porus - A Legend of Old'
by Michael Madhusudan Dutt

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