Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

401. Cholera Camp 12/31/2002
402. What The People Said 12/31/2002
403. The Stranger 12/31/2002
404. Beast And Man In India 1/3/2003
405. Pink Dominoes 1/3/2003
406. In The Neolithic Age 12/31/2002
407. Mowgli's Song Against People 1/3/2003
408. Neighbours 1/3/2003
409. Letting In The Jungle 1/3/2003
410. Toomai Of The Elephants 1/3/2003
411. Kitchener's School 1/3/2003
412. James I 1/3/2003
413. Eddi's Service 1/3/2003
414. Cain And Abel 1/3/2003
415. Kaa’s Hunting 3/29/2010
416. Poseidon's Law 1/3/2003
417. A Song Of Kabir 1/1/2004
418. The Survival 12/31/2002
419. Gypsy Vans 1/3/2003
420. An Astrologer's Song 12/31/2002
421. My Rival 1/3/2003
422. Tomlinson 12/31/2002
423. Brown Bess 1/3/2003
424. Outsong In The Jungle 1/3/2003
425. Delilah 1/3/2003
426. Buddha At Kamakura 12/31/2002
427. By Word Of Mouth 1/3/2003
428. Old Fighting-Men 1/3/2003
429. The Children's Song 1/3/2003
430. His Apologies 3/24/2010
431. Before A Midnight Breaks In Storm 1/3/2003
432. Macdonough's Song 1/3/2003
433. Wilful Missing 12/31/2002
434. A Ripple Song 1/3/2003
435. How It All Began 1/3/2003
436. Cells 12/31/2002
437. Bobs 1/3/2003
438. Hymn Before Action 12/31/2002
439. The Secret Of The Machines 1/3/2003
440. Cuckoo Song 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

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.

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