Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

1. The Parting of the Column 6/10/2015
2. Epitaphs Of The War 1/26/2016
3. The Songs Of The Lathes 12/31/2002
4. The Landau 1/3/2003
5. The Ballad Of Fisher's Boarding-House 12/31/2002
6. The North Sea Patrol 1/3/2003
7. The Ballad Of Bolivar 12/31/2002
8. The Ballad Of Ahmed Shah 3/29/2010
9. Hymn of Breaking Strain 8/26/2015
10. The Last Chantey 12/31/2002
11. The Legend Of The Foreign Office 1/3/2003
12. The Lament Of The Border Cattle Thief 12/31/2002
13. The Coiner 1/3/2003
14. The Press 1/3/2003
15. The City Of Brass 3/24/2010
16. A Song of the White Men 1/8/2016
17. There Was A Small Boy Of Quebec 2/3/2015
18. The Liner She's A Lady 12/31/2002
19. Untitled [you Mustn'T Swim Till You'Re Six Weeks Old] 11/28/2014
20. The Jacket 12/31/2002
21. The Song Of The Old Guard 12/31/2002
22. The Ballad Of Minepit Shaw 1/3/2003
23. The Song Of The Cities 12/31/2002
24. The Lowestoft Boat 1/3/2003
25. The Conversion Of Aurelian Mcgoggin 1/3/2003
26. The Song Of The Sons 12/31/2002
27. To Thomas Atkins 12/31/2002
28. The Legend Of Mirth 1/3/2003
29. The New Knighthood 1/3/2003
30. The Legends Of Evil 1/1/2004
31. The Last Suttee 12/31/2002
32. The Man Who Could Write 1/3/2003
33. The Nursing Sister 1/3/2003
34. 'Tin Fish' 3/3/2015
35. The Dying Chauffeur 1/3/2003
36. The Appeal 3/29/2010
37. The Coastwise Lights 12/31/2002
38. The Long Trail 1/3/2003
39. The Last Lap 1/3/2003
40. The Bother 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Rudyard Kipling

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 ...

Read the full of If

Quiquern

The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow--
They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go.
The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight;
They sell their furs to the trading-post; they sell their souls to
the white.
The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler's
crew;
Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few.
But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man's ken--

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