With the Poets.

Levin Daily Chronicle, 21 December 1918, Page 6 (Supplement)

With the Poets.

: * "IF YOU CAN KEEP YOUR HEAD." If you can keep your head when all about you Are lpsing theirs and blaming it on you ; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance lor their doubting too; If you can wait and not bo tired by waiting, ■Or being lied about, don't deal in „ lies, Or being hated don't give way to liating, And vet don't look too good, nor ta.k too wise. If you can dream--ami not make dreams your master; If vou can thiiili—audi not make t.ho- ' ughts your aim, If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat these two iinposter.s just tlft same; . , , If you can bear t«v hear tlie truth you ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make, a trap lor fools, Or watch the things vou 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 ol pitch-ancl-toss, " And lose, and start again at your beginnings , , t And never breath a word' about youn loss; ' Jf you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone, Ai|d 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—nori lose the common touch ; ~ If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt yon, If all men count with yon, but nouo too much; If you can fill the unforgivkiig minute With sixty seconds' worth o*' distance run, Yours is the earth and everything that's in it, And.—which is more—you'll be a.man, my ©on! — Rndyard Kipling. THE CRIUCIBLE. Hard ye may be in the tumult, Red to ywir battle-hilts;» Blow give for blow in the foray, « Cunningly ride in the tilts; h But. when the roaring is ended, Tenderly, uiitlefiled, Give to a woman a woman's Heart, and a chi'.di's to a child. Test of. the man, if his worth bo In accord with the ultimate plan; If he be not, to his marring, Always and utterly man ; If he bring out of the tumult Fitter, and undcfiled, To women the heart of a woman, To children the heart of a childGood, when the bugles are ranting, It is to be iron and lire; Good to be oak in the fray, Ice to a guilty desire; Yet when the battle is ended— Marvel and wonder the while! Turn to a woman a woman's Heart, and a child's to a child. —O'. Henry.