Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
But make allowance for their doubting too;
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can keep your head when all about you