Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

361. The King's Pilgrimage 3/29/2010
362. The King's Task 1/3/2003
363. The Ladies 12/31/2002
364. The Lament Of The Border Cattle Thief 12/31/2002
365. The Land 1/3/2003
366. The Landau 1/3/2003
367. The Last Chantey 12/31/2002
368. The Last Department 1/3/2003
369. The Last Lap 1/3/2003
370. The Last Ode 1/3/2003
371. The Last Of The Light Brigade 1/3/2003
372. The Last Rhyme Of True Thomas 12/31/2002
373. The Last Suttee 12/31/2002
374. The Law Of The Jungle 1/3/2003
375. The Legend Of Evil 12/31/2002
376. The Legend Of Mirth 1/3/2003
377. The Legend Of The Foreign Office 1/3/2003
378. The Legends Of Evil 1/1/2004
379. The Lesson 1/3/2003
380. The Light That Failed 1/1/2004
381. The Liner She's A Lady 12/31/2002
382. The Long Trail 1/3/2003
383. The Lost Legion 12/31/2002
384. The Love Song Of Har Dyal 1/3/2003
385. The Lovers' Litany 1/3/2003
386. The Lowestoft Boat 1/3/2003
387. The Man Who Could Write 1/3/2003
388. The Mare's Nest 1/3/2003
389. The Married Man 1/3/2003
390. The Masque Of Plenty 1/3/2003
391. The Master-Cook 1/3/2003
392. The Men That Fought At Minden 12/31/2002
393. The Merchantmen 12/31/2002
394. The Mine-Sweepers 1/3/2003
395. The Miracle Of Purun Bhagat 1/3/2003
396. The Miracles 12/31/2002
397. The Moral 1/3/2003
398. The Morning Song Of The Jungle 1/3/2003
399. The Mother-Lodge 12/31/2002
400. The Mother's Son 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 People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow--
They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go.
The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight;
They sell their furs to the trading-post; they sell their souls to
the white.
The People of the Southern Ice, they trade with the whaler's
Their women have many ribbons, but their tents are torn and few.
But the People of the Elder Ice, beyond the white man's ken--

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