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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 allowances for their
doubting too;
If you can wait and not be
tired of 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 makes thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph
and Disaster
And treat those two imposters
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 if 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 have gone,
And hold on when there is nothing
in you
Except the Will which says
to them, 'hold on!'
If you can walk 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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