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 imposters 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!
(Rudyard Kipling--1910)
love that. My dear husband has it memorized, and has recited it to me on more than one occasion.
ReplyDeleteWow, that is impressive. It is rather a long poem to memorize but a worthy one indeed. I learned a rather sad fact about Kipling. His son (presumably the one referenced in the poem) died in a WWI battle, and his body was never found. Kipling was chair of the Imperial War Graves Commission at the time, and one of his responsibilities was to prepare inscriptions for soldiers' monuments and memorials. What a terrible irony for the poor man to endure! Thanks for commenting.
ReplyDeleteLooks like you had a great Father's Day! Glad you could spend it with your family. What a sad, and yes ironic, story about Kipling.
ReplyDeleteJust read your post about trimming the roses--I got carried away last spring and transplanted a Knockout Rose right before a hard freeze. I thought I had killed it, but it did come back, just in a very strange shape. Yours will probably recover.
Hope your sciatica is doing better--I had to think about the PITA :)
Actually, Rose, the pictures were from a trip my husband and I made to Florida at the end of February, before I moved back here by myself. I wanted my husband to remember the good time we had on the beach that day with our daughter, son, and his family. I felt awful that he had to be alone on Father's Day, so I tried to cheer him up a bit with a virtual visit. It's not quite the same as being there in person, but I think it helps. As for the sciatica, I plan on going to the chiropractor this week. I went to a medical doctor about it last year, and all she did was prescribe pain pills, which I declined. I think maybe something is out of alignment in my spine. Thanks for the visit and your concern.
ReplyDeleteI've always been drawn to the one line of this poem: if you can dream and not make dreams your master...
ReplyDeleteIt reminds me to live today, and not spend so much time anticipating tomorrow. Gardening does that too.
I enjoyed visiting your garden, and look forward to returning.
Hi, WS. Glad you could stop by. I also tend to either dwell too much on the past or dread what tomorrow might bring me. I think we're conditioned to do that as we grow up, and it becomes a curse of getting older (at least with me). You're right about gardening, though. It makes me forget about myself and concentrate on bringing out the beauty and order in something, which is probably the only thing I can control.
ReplyDelete