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 all on one turn of pitch-_and-toss,
_and lose, _and start again at your beginnings
_and never breath 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!