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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 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 winning
 And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss
And lose, and start again at your beginning
 And never breathe a word about your loss
If you can force your heart and nerve and sine
 To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in yo
 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 minut
 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
Rewards and Fairies, 1910


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