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one day you'll be a man my son
Posted by: reena chudasama (---.iqara.net)
Date: September 15, 2004 08:51AM

dear sir/madam,

i was looking for a particular poem, it was the favourite of my late husband and he wished to give it to our sons when they attained adulthood, this was more than 10 yrs back the poem had appeared in an edition of readers digest and my sons were very small then, they have both become big now and i would like to fulfill my late husbands wish by presenting them with the poem however i have a big problem - i cannot really remember the title of the poem nor the poet but however i think it was ' one day you be a man my son' by rudyard kipling who had written it for his son but unfortunately his died in the war before the father could give it to him, i have in vain tried to locate this poem on mr. kipling's site and many other sites, and i would be most obliged if could could help me in my search and inform me where i can find it.

awaiting an early response.

regards and thanks

Re: one day you'll be a man my son
Posted by: IanB (---.tnt11.mel1.da.uu.net)
Date: September 15, 2004 09:01AM

Here you go, Reena. This is a very popular poem:

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!

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