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.

And 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 triumphs and disaster,

And treat both these imposters 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 them up with wornout tools;

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 in it.

And, which is more, you'll be a man, my son.