1865 Born at Bombay India. Educated at the United Services College, at Westward Ho, North Devon, England.
1883 Returned to India and worked on the staff of the Civil and Military Gazette.
1888 Published Plain Tales from the Hills.
1890 Settled in England. Published The Light That Failed.
1897 Published Captains Courageous
1899 Published Stalky & Co.
1901 Published Kim
1902 Published Just So Stories
1907 Won Nobel Prize for Literature
1918 Inclusive Edition of poems appeared.
1919 Moved to Burwash, Sussex.
1936 Rudyard Kipling died on Jan. 18, 1936, in the same month that brought the death of England's king, George V. The writer was buried in Westminster Abbey among England's honored sons.
I think this is an excellent poem, and are definately words that we can and should live by.
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 make drqams your master;
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And trat 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 gabe your life to broken
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools.
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk i ton 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!