If
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:
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!’
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
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