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R. Kipling “If”.

If you 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 hated,

And yet don’t look, nor talk 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 buld’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 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,

You’re is the Earth and everything that’s in it

And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!

William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Besides the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breezе.

Continuous as the start that shine

And twinkle on the Milky way,

They stretched in never - ending line

Along the margin of a bay;

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee;

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed – but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills

And dances with the daffodils.

Robert L. Stevenson

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