Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

161. The Lowestoft Boat 1/3/2003
162. The Lovers' Litany 1/3/2003
163. The Love Song Of Har Dyal 1/3/2003
164. The Lost Legion 12/31/2002
165. The Long Trail 1/3/2003
166. The Liner She's A Lady 12/31/2002
167. The Light That Failed 1/1/2004
168. The Lesson 1/3/2003
169. The Legends Of Evil 1/1/2004
170. The Legend Of The Foreign Office 1/3/2003
171. The Legend Of Mirth 1/3/2003
172. The Legend Of Evil 12/31/2002
173. The Law Of The Jungle 1/3/2003
174. The Last Suttee 12/31/2002
175. The Last Rhyme Of True Thomas 12/31/2002
176. The Last Of The Light Brigade 1/3/2003
177. The Last Ode 1/3/2003
178. The Last Lap 1/3/2003
179. The Last Department 1/3/2003
180. The Last Chantey 12/31/2002
181. The Landau 1/3/2003
182. The Land 1/3/2003
183. The Lament Of The Border Cattle Thief 12/31/2002
184. The Ladies 12/31/2002
185. The King's Task 1/3/2003
186. The King's Pilgrimage 3/29/2010
187. The King's Job 1/3/2003
188. The King's Ankus 1/3/2003
189. The Kingdom 1/3/2003
190. The King And The Sea 3/29/2010
191. The King 12/31/2002
192. The Justice's Tale 1/3/2003
193. The Junk And The Dhow 1/3/2003
194. The Juggler's Song 1/3/2003
195. The Jester 1/3/2003
196. The Jacket 12/31/2002
197. The Irish Guards 1/3/2003
198. The Inventor 1/3/2003
199. The Instructor 1/3/2003
200. The Idiot Boy 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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