Tagore wants his readers to see the world from the eyes of a baby. If baby only wanted to, he could fly up to heaven this moment. It is not for nothing that he does not leave us. He loves to rest his head on mother's bosom, and cannot ever bear to lose sight of her. His attachment to his mother shows a strong bond between the two. It is only the mother who can shape, mould and bring up the character within the child. The baby knows all manner of wise words, though few on earth can understand their meaning. It is not for nothing that he never wants to speak. It all depends upon his innocent mood. The one thing he wants is to learn mother's words from mother's lips. That is why he looks so innocent. The baby had a heap of gold and pearls up in heaven, yet he came like a beggar on to this earth. It is not for nothing he came in such a disguise. This dear little naked mendicant; given to begging: of or denoting a religious order originally dependent on alms: a beggar; pretends to be utterly helpless, so that he may beg for mother's wealth of love. For the baby there is no wealth like the presence of his mother. The baby was so free from every tie in the land of the tiny crescent moon; the curved sickle shape of the waxing or waning moon: a thing which has the shape of a single curve, especially when broad in the centre and tapering to a point at each end: a street or terrace of houses forming an arc: having the shape of a crescent: growing, increasing, or developing.
It was not for nothing he gave up his freedom. Yet he enjoys his freedom more in her arms than all by himself. He knows that there is room for endless joy in mother's little corner of a heart, and it is sweeter far than liberty to be caught and pressed in her dear arms. Her gentle touch and body blends with his frail and feeble mass. He feels safe and secure with his mother around. The baby never knew how to cry. He dwelt in the land of perfect bliss. The border of his land is limited to only as far as his eyes could see. It is not for nothing he has chosen to shed tears. Most of the time his tears are tears of compulsion and not of necessity. Though with the smile of his dear face he draws mother's yearning heart to him, yet his little cries over tiny troubles weave the double bond of pity and love. Every time he cries loudly from the bottom of his heart, he draws his mother’s attention completely to take pity upon him. To put an end to his cry, his mother would carry him in her arms and sing a lullaby to calm him down or put him to sleep.