Rudyard Kipling

(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)

Rudyard Kipling Poems

41. Army Headquarters 12/31/2002
42. Arterial 12/31/2002
43. As The Bell Clinks 12/31/2002
44. At His Execution 12/31/2002
45. Azrael's Count 12/31/2002
46. Back To The Army Again 1/3/2003
47. Ballad Of Fisher's Boarding-House 1/3/2003
48. Banquet Night 12/31/2002
49. Barrack-Room Ballads 12/31/2002
50. Beast And Man In India 1/3/2003
51. Before A Midnight Breaks In Storm 1/3/2003
52. Belts 12/31/2002
53. Bill 'Awkins 12/31/2002
54. Birds Of Prey March 12/31/2002
55. Blue Roses 1/3/2003
56. Bobs 1/3/2003
57. Boots 12/31/2002
58. Bridge-Guard In The Karroo 1/3/2003
59. Brookland Road 1/3/2003
60. Brown Bess 1/3/2003
61. Buddha At Kamakura 12/31/2002
62. Butterflies 1/3/2003
63. By The Hoof Of The Wild Goat 1/3/2003
64. By Word Of Mouth 1/3/2003
65. Cain And Abel 1/3/2003
66. Carmen Circulare 1/3/2003
67. Cells 12/31/2002
68. Certain Maxims Of Hafiz 1/3/2003
69. Chant-Pagan 1/3/2003
70. Cholera Camp 12/31/2002
71. Christmas In India 1/3/2003
72. Cities And Thrones And Powers 1/3/2003
73. Cleared 12/31/2002
74. Cold Iron 1/3/2003
75. Columns 1/3/2003
76. Common Form 3/29/2010
77. Contradictions 1/3/2003
78. Covenant 1/3/2003
79. Cruisers 1/3/2003
80. Cuckoo Song 1/3/2003
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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