Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

1. The Parting of the Column 6/10/2015
2. Hymn of Breaking Strain 8/26/2015
3. Epitaphs Of The War 1/26/2016
4. The Last Chantey 12/31/2002
5. The Ballad Of Fisher's Boarding-House 12/31/2002
6. The Landau 1/3/2003
7. The North Sea Patrol 1/3/2003
8. The Songs Of The Lathes 12/31/2002
9. The Ballad Of Ahmed Shah 3/29/2010
10. The Ballad Of Bolivar 12/31/2002
11. The Song Of The Sons 12/31/2002
12. The Legend Of The Foreign Office 1/3/2003
13. The Lowestoft Boat 1/3/2003
14. The Song Of The Cities 12/31/2002
15. Untitled [you Mustn'T Swim Till You'Re Six Weeks Old] 11/28/2014
16. The Man Who Could Write 1/3/2003
17. A Song of the White Men 1/8/2016
18. The Coiner 1/3/2003
19. The Lament Of The Border Cattle Thief 12/31/2002
20. The Press 1/3/2003
21. The City Of Brass 3/24/2010
22. There Was A Small Boy Of Quebec 2/3/2015
23. The Appeal 3/29/2010
24. The Liner She's A Lady 12/31/2002
25. The Jacket 12/31/2002
26. The Bother 1/3/2003
27. The Ballad Of Minepit Shaw 1/3/2003
28. The Braggart 1/3/2003
29. The Conversion Of Aurelian Mcgoggin 1/3/2003
30. The Cure 1/3/2003
31. To Thomas Atkins 12/31/2002
32. The Legend Of Mirth 1/3/2003
33. The New Knighthood 1/3/2003
34. The Fall Of Jock Gillespie 1/3/2003
35. The Legends Of Evil 1/1/2004
36. The Last Suttee 12/31/2002
37. The Nursing Sister 1/3/2003
38. The Last Ode 1/3/2003
39. 'Tin Fish' 3/3/2015
40. The Dying Chauffeur 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 Widow At Windsor

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There's 'er nick on the cavalry 'orses,
There's 'er mark on the medical stores --
An' 'er troopers you'll find with a fair wind be'ind
That takes us to various wars.

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