Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

361. The King's Ankus 1/3/2003
362. The King's Job 1/3/2003
363. The King's Pilgrimage 3/29/2010
364. The King's Task 1/3/2003
365. The Ladies 12/31/2002
366. The Lament Of The Border Cattle Thief 12/31/2002
367. The Land 1/3/2003
368. The Landau 1/3/2003
369. The Last Chantey 12/31/2002
370. The Last Department 1/3/2003
371. The Last Lap 1/3/2003
372. The Last Ode 1/3/2003
373. The Last Of The Light Brigade 1/3/2003
374. The Last Rhyme Of True Thomas 12/31/2002
375. The Last Suttee 12/31/2002
376. The Law Of The Jungle 1/3/2003
377. The Legend Of Evil 12/31/2002
378. The Legend Of Mirth 1/3/2003
379. The Legend Of The Foreign Office 1/3/2003
380. The Legends Of Evil 1/1/2004
381. The Lesson 1/3/2003
382. The Light That Failed 1/1/2004
383. The Liner She's A Lady 12/31/2002
384. The Long Trail 1/3/2003
385. The Lost Legion 12/31/2002
386. The Love Song Of Har Dyal 1/3/2003
387. The Lovers' Litany 1/3/2003
388. The Lowestoft Boat 1/3/2003
389. The Man Who Could Write 1/3/2003
390. The Mare's Nest 1/3/2003
391. The Married Man 1/3/2003
392. The Masque Of Plenty 1/3/2003
393. The Master-Cook 1/3/2003
394. The Men That Fought At Minden 12/31/2002
395. The Merchantmen 12/31/2002
396. The Mine-Sweepers 1/3/2003
397. The Miracle Of Purun Bhagat 1/3/2003
398. The Miracles 12/31/2002
399. The Moral 1/3/2003
400. The Morning Song Of The Jungle 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Rudyard Kipling


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 ...

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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
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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