I was reintroduced to this poem while reading (of all things) Bridget Jones’s Diary: The Edge of Reason – I should have maybe lied and told you it was much more academic! I have only just read that book, and really wish I did so earlier, although when I was craving more Bridget Jones stories and tried to find a compilation of the original articles I was awfully disappointed by the ending. I think I always seem to do that-I love a book, stay up all night to read it, then get upset that the ending is not what I wanted it to be.Terrible confession, but I felt that way at the end of the Twilight books….I know there are fans out there, and I do love them all, but I just was so upset by the last book! Then again, when I love an ending I want to find out more and more of what happened later, once the book is finished.
Anyway, I wanted to post this poem as it has ‘got me through’ some stuff recently (well, apart from the last line!). So I wanted to share it as it is very special to me now.
I only hope that in some ways I can live up to the poem, albeit in others I am happy I wont!
I hope it can be an inspiration to others who didn't expect to find any sort of inspiration here today!
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 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 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
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 that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!