| | If/Will the mystery submitter please stand up?
I am the one who submitted this article, well over a month ago. You will note my initials in brackets regarding the punctuation. The confusion over the attribution which Ed points out in post #1 would appear to have arisen because I attributed it to Ed's Sister's Son at the time, and that is how it appeared last night, until partially corrected. The by-line on the article should be changed to myself, and the attributed link (which points to Ed's postin of the poem in another thread) at the bottom of the text should be changed to Jalen Thompson from Ed's Sister's Son.
Ted
PS
Ed, wish him a happy coming of age. Have you read him If?
If
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!
Rudyard Kipling
(Edited by Ted Keer on 9/26, 3:15pm)
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