If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts you 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 them 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 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!”
