The poems which inspire..

If 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 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!

 

DON'T QUIT Anonymous When things go wrong as they sometimes will When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and the debts are high You want to smile but just sigh When care is pressing you down a bit Rest if you must but don't quit Life is queer with its twists and turns As everyone of us sometimes learns And many a fellow turns about When he might have won had he stuck it out Don't give up though, the pace seems slow You may succeed with another blow Often the goal is nearer than It seems to a faint and faltering man Often the struggler has given up When he might have captured the victor's cup And he learned too late when the night came down How close he was to the golden crown Success is failure turned inside out The silver tint of the clouds of doubt And you never can tell how close you are It may be near when it seems so far So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

 

The Charge of the Light Brigade Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1. Half a league, half a league,  Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death  Rode the six hundred. "Forward, the Light Brigade! "Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death  Rode the six hundred. 2. "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier knew  Someone had blunder'd: Their's not to make reply, Their's not to reason why, Their's but to do and die: Into the valley of Death  Rode the six hundred. 3. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them  Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell  Rode the six hundred. 4. Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air, Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while  All the world wonder'd: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre stroke  Shatter'd and sunder'd. Then they rode back, but not  Not the six hundred. 5. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them  Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came thro' the jaws of Death Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them,  Left of six hundred. 6. When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made!  All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made, Honor the Light Brigade,  Noble six hundred.