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The Monday Poem (old)
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13th October 2014 - If by Rudyard Kipling
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I've always loved this poem! Thanks Alannah for refreshing my memory :) The last stanza is my favorite.
Bracing advice Alannah! :) I can't remember if I've read poetry by Kipling before other than the playful ones he wrote for kids. I'm pretty sure I haven't read this one before. Thanks for sharing.
Alice wrote: "I've always loved this poem! Thanks Alannah for refreshing my memory :) The last stanza is my favorite."
Mine too. :)
Mine too. :)
Carried a copy of it in my wallet for thirty years! First read Kipling as a boy - my Dad was in India in the Royal Engineers during the war and loved Kipling's Barrack Room Ballads, which includes Gunga Din. Such understanding of all types.That was my intro.
Love this poem. Thanks for sharing
Sometimes I feel like such a blank sheet when it comes to famous poetry by English language writers that most of you have read in school, but the benefit of that is that to me this was brand new and I love it! Thank you Alannah! And John, this seems a perfect choice for carrying around!
Jenny - yes, but how much worse we English speakers are at foreign works, poetry especially. I did German 'A'-level at school, so did some Goethe poems in German, but although I do still read German and French novels sometimes, with difficulty, never poetry, I'm afraid. You shame us!









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!
Taken from poetryfoundation.org