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.
And 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 triumphs and disaster,
And treat both these imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop, and build them up with wornout tools;
If you can talk with crowds, and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you - but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run.
Yours is the earth and everything in it.
And, which is more, you'll be a man, my son.