Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

241. Frankie's Trade 1/3/2003
242. The Sergeant's Weddin' 12/31/2002
243. The Ubique 3/29/2010
244. The Greek National Anthem 1/3/2003
245. Memories 3/29/2010
246. Shillin' A Day 12/31/2002
247. The Verdicts 12/31/2002
248. The Camels Hump 3/29/2010
249. Cruisers 1/3/2003
250. The Wet Litany 12/31/2002
251. The Wishing-Caps 12/31/2002
252. The Boy Scouts' Patrol Song 1/3/2003
253. The Sea-Wife 12/31/2002
254. The Fires 1/3/2003
255. The Totem 12/31/2002
256. Arterial 12/31/2002
257. The Burden 1/3/2003
258. The Three-Decker 12/31/2002
259. Sepulchral 1/3/2003
260. Two Months 12/31/2002
261. The Rout Of The White Hussars 1/3/2003
262. The Widower 12/31/2002
263. Alnaschar And The Oxen 3/29/2010
264. The Vineyard 12/31/2002
265. The Rowers 1/3/2003
266. Darzee's Chount 1/3/2003
267. The Feet Of The Young Men 1/3/2003
268. Rimmon 1/3/2003
269. Edgehill Fight 1/3/2003
270. Public Waste 1/3/2003
271. The King 12/31/2002
272. One Viceroy Resigns 1/3/2003
273. The Runes Of Weland's Sword 1/3/2003
274. Possibilities 1/3/2003
275. Heriot's Ford 1/3/2003
276. Philadelphia 1/3/2003
277. The Hyaenas 1/3/2003
278. An Imperial Rescript 12/31/2002
279. The Burial 1/3/2003
280. Sea-Wife 1/3/2003

Comments about Rudyard Kipling

  • Vikram Aarella - The Poem Shooter (5/19/2006 9:44:00 AM)

    Mr Kipling might have born in India, but i did not in some of his poetry like the potryal of India.

    43 person liked.
    52 person did not like.
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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