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 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
Mathers and fathers of 2morrow (amos)