IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
- Rudyard Kipling
quite an experience to meet up with this poem again after 50 years! Reading it brought back some neat memories. My favorite elementary school teacher, Miss Buchanan, had us memorize it ... or maybe the last verse, that's the one I remember. Did she manage to instill the values she obviously hoped to? Looking back I wonder, but of course there's still the road ahead :-) Thanks for posting.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your lovely memory. Really glad it triggered a nice memory for you. I only came across the poem relatively recently on a short film made for the 2012 Olympics, then came across it again on Boardwalk Empire. Thanks for reading :)
DeleteI remember reading this before, but it's interesting how it takes on new meanings at different stages of life. And it's made even more meaningful by the photos you've included here. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteYes, definitely. Poetry as good as this is worth revisiting throughout a lifetime. Thanks, it took me quite a while to decide on the photos.
DeleteA lovely poem, and nice photos to accompany it!
ReplyDeleteThanks Lou Mary. We must have been reading each other's blogs at around the same time as I've just commented on your blog too!
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