If you can keep your head whell all about you
are loosing 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 to 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, bot none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty seconds worth of distance run,
yours is the Earth and everything thats in it
and what is more, you’ll be a Man, my Son!
Rudyard Kipling