Posted on 01/04/2006 4:44:10 AM PST by Kimmers
[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 all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath 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!
--[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 all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath 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
You probably need to check your voice mail. :-)
I love this poem! Thanks for posting it. Did you know the hard times this guy suffered?
lol
Thanks for reminding us of how good he is.
If wishes were horses tnen beggers would ride.
I wrote this poem in a card to a marine I babysat before he was sent to Iraq. I thought he was going to cry. LC M Lane we love you!
tnen = then
"If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,"
I think I've found my new FR tagline.
Thanks for reminding me how high the standards were for literary accomplishment a century ago.
It helps to keep a budding author in his place.
SHE: I don't know....I've never Kippled!..........
"Did you know the hard times this guy suffered?"
Actually I don't. Can you fill us in?
Are you sure Bush Sr. didn't write this?
I carry it around in my wallet. We had to learn it in the 9th grade, and, then the teacher gave us a copy to keep. Now that I think about it, I have a copy on the wall in my office also.
You've obviously misunderstood the situation...:)
Pops always told me "IF" is a word for children. And when I'd try to explain something with "IF" he'd say, "If a frog had wings, he wouldn't bump his a$$ a hoppin'."
The beauty and elegance of 'If' contrasts starkly with Rudyard Kipling's largely tragic and unhappy life. He was starved of love and attention and sent away by his parents; beaten and abused by his foster mother; and a failure at a public school which sought to develop qualities that were completely alien to Kipling. In later life the deaths of two of his children also affected Kipling deeply.
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