The document provides a list of literary works and poets included in the curriculum for Classes XI and XII, focusing on various renowned poets such as Rabindranath Tagore and Tony Hoagland. It highlights Tagore's contributions to Bengali literature and his Nobel Prize-winning work, as well as Hoagland's unique voice in contemporary poetry. Additionally, it features excerpts from Tagore's poem 'Abhisara - the Tryst' and Hoagland's poem 'Why I Like the Hospital.'
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The document provides a list of literary works and poets included in the curriculum for Classes XI and XII, focusing on various renowned poets such as Rabindranath Tagore and Tony Hoagland. It highlights Tagore's contributions to Bengali literature and his Nobel Prize-winning work, as well as Hoagland's unique voice in contemporary poetry. Additionally, it features excerpts from Tagore's poem 'Abhisara - the Tryst' and Hoagland's poem 'Why I Like the Hospital.'
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF or read online on Scribd
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ae Classes XI\ & Xi)
Examination Year 2025 onwardsNo.
Page No.
1. Abhisara - the Tryst : |
~ Rabindranath Tagore
2. Why I Like the Hospital 9 |
— Tony Hoagland
3. Sonnet 116 8 |
— William Shakespeare |
4. Death of a Naturalist -
= Seamus Heaney
5, Strange Meeting 20
— Wilfred Owen
6. Eve to Her Daughters 24
— Judith Wright
7. The King Speaks to the Scribe 29
— Keki N. Daruwalla
8. Funeral Blues a4
— W.H, Auden
9. Two Tramps in Mud Time 37
— Robert Frost
10. Refugee Mother and Child 42
= Chinua Achebe
11. Telephone Conversation 45
— Wole Soyinka
12. Tithonus a
— Alfred, Lord Tennyson
)14,
15.
16.
i,
18.
19.
20.
Beethoven
— Shane Koyczan
Small Towns and the River
= Mamang Dai
Death Be Not Proud
= John Donne
Crusoe in England
— Elizabeth Bishop
‘A Walk by Moonlight
— Henry Louis Vivian Derozio
Enterprise
— Nissim Ezekiel
Frost at Midnight
— Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Ode to the West Wind
— Percy Bysshe Shelley
(o)
60
64
74
80
89About the Poet
Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941)
Rabindranath 1
agore was a renowned Indian (Bengali)
poet,
short-stor y Writer, song composer, playwright, essayist,
and painter who introduced new prose and verse forms
and the use of colloquial language into Bengali literature,
thereby freeing it from tr.
Sanskrit.
‘aditional models based on classical
He was highly influential in introducing Indian culture
to the West and vice versa, and he is generally regarded as
the outstanding creative artist of early 20th-century India. In
1913 he became the first non-European to receive the Nobel
Prize for Literature for his collection of poems titled Gitanjali.
Although Tagore wrote successfu lly inall literary genres,
he was first of all a poet. Among his fifty and odd volumes
of poetry are Manasi or The Ideal One (1890), Sonar Tari or The
Golden Boat (1894), Katha O Kahini (1899), Gitanjali or Song
Offerings (1910), Gitimalya or Wreath of Songs (1914), and
Balaka or The Flight of Cranes (1916). The English renderings
of his poetry include The Gardener (1913), Fruit-Gathering
(1916), and The Fugitive (1921). In these volumes of verse,
he experimented with many poetic forms and techniques —
lyric, sonnet, ode, dramatic monologue, dialogue poems,
long narrative and descriptive works, and prose poems.
Abhisara, translated as ‘The Tryst’, was written in Bengali
by Rabindranath in 1899 and appeared in a collection called
Katha O Kahini, which was inspired by Rajendralal Mitra’s
masterpiece “Sanskrit Buddhist Literature of Nepal’. The
poems in this collection are from tales of Buddhist, Sikh,
Rajasthan, Marathi or other non-Bengali literary traditions.
5Tagore translated this poem into English for a collection of
eighty-six translated poems called Fruit-Gathering, brought
out in 1916 by Macmillan.
This is a story-poem based on Upagupta, a Buddhist
monk who lived in the 300 BCE and was revered by Emperor
Ashoka. It demonstrates the values of love and compassion
that may be found in unexpected persons under unusual
circumstances.1 Abhisara - the Tryst
— Rabindranath Tagore
Upagupta, the disciple of Buddha, lay asleep in
the dust by the city wall of Mathura.
Lamps were all out, doors were all shut, and stars
were all hidden by the murky sky of August.
Whose feet were those tinkling with anklets,
touching his breast of a sudden?
He woke up startled, and the light from a woman's
lamp fell on his forgiving eyes.
It was Vasavadatta the dancing girl, starred with
jewels,
Clouded with a pale blue mantle, drunk with the
wine of her youth.
She lowered her lamp and saw the young face,
austerely beautiful.
‘Forgive me, young ascetic,’ said the woman,
‘Graciously come to my house. The dusty earth is
nota fit bed for you.’
The young ascetic answered, Woman, go on your way;
When the time is ripe I will come to you.’
Suddenly the black night showed its teeth in a
flash of lightning.
The storm growled from the corner of the sky, and
the woman trembled in fear.
A year had not yet passed.
It was evening of a day in April, in the Spring.
The branches of the wayside trees were full of
blossom.Gay notes of a flute came floating in the warm
spring air from afar.
The citizens had gone to the woods for the
festival of flowers.
From the mid-sky gazed the full moon on the
shadows of the silent town.
The young ascetic was walking in the lonely
street,
While overhead the love-sick koels uttered from the
mango branches their sleepless plaint.
Upagupta passed through the city gates, and stood
at the base of the rampart.
What woman lay at his feet in the shadow of the
mango grove?
Struck with the black pestilence, her body spotted
with sores of small-pox,
She had been hurriedly driven away from the
town
To avoid her poisonous contagion.
The ascetic sat by her side, took her head on his
knees,
And moistened her lips with water, and smeared
her body with balm.
‘Who are you, merciful one?’ asked the woman.
‘The time, at last, has come to visit you, and lam
here, Vasavdatta,’ replied the young ascetic.About the Poet
Tony Hoagland (1953-2018)
Anthony Dey Ho,
American poet. H
agland was a renowned modern
is father was an Army doctor, so
Hoagland grew up on various military bases in Hawaii,
Alabama, Ethiopia, and Texas. According to the novelist
Don Lee, Hoagland “attended and dropped out of several
colleges, picked apples and cherries in the Northwest, lived
in communes, followed the Grateful Dead and became a
Buddhist.” He taught in the University of Houston creative
writing program. He was also on the faculty of the low-
residency Warren Wilson College MFA Program for Writers.
He received the Jackson Poetry Prize from Poets & Writers,
the Mark Twain Award from the Poetry Foundation, and
the O. B. Hardison, Jr. Award from the Folger Shakespeare
Library. He died in 2018.
Hoagland authored several poetry collections: Sweet
Ruin (1992), which was chosen for the Brittingham Prize in
Poetry and won the Zacharis Award from Emerson College;
Donkey Gospel (1998), winner of the James Laughlin Award;
What Narcissism Means to Me (2003), a finalist for the National
Book Critics Circle Award; Rain (2005); and Priest Turned
Therapist Treats Fear of God (2018). He has also published
two collections of essays about poetry. In his final book of
poems, Turn Up the Ocean, published in 2022, he has been
characterized as “one of the most distinctive voices of our
time”.
Hoagland’s poetry is known for its acerbic, witty take
on contemporary life and “straight talk.” In 2010, Dwight
Garner, a New York Times critic, wrote of Hoagland: “Hiserudite comic poems are backloaded with heartache ang
longing, and they function, emotionally, like improviseq
explosive devices: The pain comes at you from the cruelest
angles, on the sunniest of days.”
The poems in Turn Up the Ocean examine with an
unflinching eye and mordant humour the reality of living
and dying in a time and culture that conspire to erase our
inner lives. In these poems, perseverance depends on a
gymnastics of skepticism and comedy, a dogged quest for
authentic connection, and the consolations of the natural
world.Why I Like the Hospital
— Tony Hoagland
Because it is all right to be in a bad mood there,
slouching along through the underground garage,
riding wordlessly on the elevator with the other customers,
staring at the closed beige doors like a prison wall.
1 like the hospital for the way it grants permission for pathos
—the mother with cancer deciding how to tell her kids,
the bald girl gazing downward at the shunt
installed above her missing breast,
the crone in her pajamas, walking with an IV pole.
I don’t like the smell of antiseptic,
or the air-conditioning set on high all night,
or the fresh flowers tossed into the wastebasket,
but I like the way some people on their plastic chairs
break out a notebook and invent a complex scoring system
to tally up their days on earth,
the column on the left that says, Times I Acted Like a Fool,
facing the column on the right that says,
Times I Acted Like a Saint.
Ilike the long prairie of the waiting;
the forced intimacy of the self with the self;
each sick person standing in the middle of a field,
like a tree wondering what happened to the forest.