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| 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, |
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| 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: |
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| 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; |
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| 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: |
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| 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; |
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| 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!" |
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| 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, |
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| 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! |
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| ~ Rudyard Kipling ~ |
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