If by Rudyard Kipling

 

I have been busy with poetry lately; writing some myself, reading some, and learning more about the craft. 

 I recently finished reading aloud The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling to my children. I enjoyed it very much. I had never known that The Jungle Book is several stories in one cover. The first story is about Mowgli and Sheer Kan. The second story is about a white seal in the North Pacific (Stellar Sea Cows are mentioned! I was so excited because I had just learned about Stellar Sea Cows last year when I read Sea Cows, Shamans, and Scurvy by Arnold). The third story is about Rikki-Tikki-Tavi the mongoose. The fourth story is about a boy who has a way with elephants. The final story is about many pack animals of the army having a discussion about their labor. That last story gave me a lot of food for thought. I had to reread it again for myself. I feel like there is a deep metaphor in the story and I can't quite grasp the whole meaning; something about consciousness and courage or the greatness of the collective at the expense of individuality. I can't put my finger on it exactly. I am open to ideas, if you have any interpretation on the story, please share them with me.

 All this reading of Rudyard Kipling put me in the mood to read some verses written by him. 

 This is a favorite poem of mine and I learned that I am not alone, apparently, it was the most beloved poem among Brits' at one point. It brings to mind many Biblical proverbs and inspires me to strive toward goodness, strengthen my integrity, and become a more humble person. 

What are your thoughts on the poem? How does it make you feel?

If

By 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 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!