Rudyard Kipling Poems
|521.||To The City Of Bombay||12/31/2002|
|522.||To The Companions||12/31/2002|
|523.||To The True Romance||12/31/2002|
|524.||To The Unknown Goddess||12/31/2002|
|525.||To Thomas Atkins||12/31/2002|
|526.||To Wolcott Balestier||12/31/2002|
|527.||To: Thomas Atkins||3/29/2010|
|531.||Toomai Of The Elephants||1/3/2003|
|537.||Untitled [you Mustn'T Swim Till You'Re Six Weeks Old]||11/28/2014|
|538.||We And They||12/31/2002|
|540.||What The People Said||12/31/2002|
|541.||When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted||12/31/2002|
|544.||With Drake In The Tropics||12/31/2002|
|545.||With Scindia To Delhi||12/31/2002|
|546.||Yet At The Last||1/3/2003|
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 ...
The First Chantey
Mine was the woman to me, darkling I found her;
Haling her dumb from the camp, took her and bound her.
Hot rose her tribe on our track ere I had proved her;
Hearing her laugh in the gloom, greatly I loved her.
Swift through the forest we ran; none stood to guard us,
Few were my people and far; then the flood barred us --
Him we call Son of the Sea, sullen and swollen.
Panting we waited the death, stealer and stolen.