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 breath 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!
--Rudyard Kipling
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 breath 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!
--Rudyard Kipling
This is a very famous poem by Rudyard Kipling (not the cake man, but the poet) and I am sure many of you will have read it before. However, it generated such a strong feeling in me that I wanted to reproduce it here. It made me braver, tougher, more compassionate, especially the line which says "IF YOU CAN BEAR TO HEAR THE TRUTH YOU'VE SPOKEN/TWISTED BY KNAVES TO MAKE A TRAP FOR FOOLS...."
It reminded me of our days in court, when he told the truth and the prosecution barrister twisted things so cleverly, deviously, and toturously that the jury just didn't believe the truth.
My husband and I drew a great deal of courage from this poem when he was incarcerated. I think it serves not only to give strength but also as a warning of what may be to come for many of us.
I used to sign my letters to him: "Yours, with all my heart and nerve and sinew..."
I hope some of you may read it with the same kind of desperate pleasure as I did, and realise that you are not alone.
It reminded me of our days in court, when he told the truth and the prosecution barrister twisted things so cleverly, deviously, and toturously that the jury just didn't believe the truth.
My husband and I drew a great deal of courage from this poem when he was incarcerated. I think it serves not only to give strength but also as a warning of what may be to come for many of us.
I used to sign my letters to him: "Yours, with all my heart and nerve and sinew..."
I hope some of you may read it with the same kind of desperate pleasure as I did, and realise that you are not alone.
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