by Rudyard Kipling
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!
