Daca

De poti sa nu -ti pierzi capul, cand toti in jurul tau
Si l-au pierdut pe-al lor gasindu-ti tie vina;
De poti atunci cand toti te cred nedemn si rau,
Si nu-ti pierzi nici o clipa increderea in tine;
De poti s-astepti oricat, fara sa-ti pierzi rabdarea,
De rabzi sa fii mintit fara ca tu sa minti,
Sau cand hulit de oameni, tu nu cu razbunarea
Sa vrei a le raspunde, dar nici cu rugaminti;
De poti visa, dar fara sa te robesti visarii,
De poti gandi, dar fara sa-ti faci din asta tel,
De poti sa nu cazi prada nicicand disperarii,
Succesul si dezastrul primindu-le la fel;
De rabzi s-auzi cuvantul rostit candva de tine,
Rastalmacit de oameni, ciuntit si prefacut;
De poti sa-ti vezi idealul distrus si din ruine
Sa-l recladesti cu ardoarea fierbinte din trecut;
De poti risca pe o carte intreaga ta avere,
Si tot ce-ai strans o viata sa pierzi intr-un minut,
Si atunci, fara a scoate o vorba de durere,
Sa-ncepi agoniseala cu calm de la-nceput;
Si daca corpul tau uzat si obosit,
Il vei putea forta sa-ti mai slujeasca inca,
Numai cu strajnicia vointei tale, si-astfel,
Sa steie peste vreme asa cum sta o stanca;
De poti vorbi multimii fara sa minti, si daca
Te poti plimba ca regii, fara a te-ngamfa,
De, nici amicii, nici dusmanii nu pot vreun rau sa-ti faca,
Pentru ca doar dreptatea este calauza ta;
Si daca poti sa umpli minuta trecatoare;
Sa nu pierzi nici o fila din al vietii tom,
Al tau va fi pamantul, cu bunurile-i toate,
Si ceea ce mai mult chiar, sa stii, ve fi un OM!

Rudyard Kipling

În 1995 un sondaj realizat de BBC a stabilit ca este poemul favorit în Marea Britanie. Acest îndemn la autocontrol si stoicism este, fara îndoiala, cel mai cunoscut poem al sau.

Mother lodge

The Mother-Lodge

There was Rundle, Station Master,
An’ Beazeley of the Rail,
An’ ‘Ackman, Commissariat,
An’ Donkin’ o’ the Jail;
An’ Blake, Conductor-Sargent,
Our Master twice was ‘e,
With ‘im that kept the Europe-shop,
Old Framjee Eduljee.

Outside—“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!”
Inside—“Brother”, an’ it doesn’t do no ‘arm. We met upon the Level an’ we parted on the Square, An’ I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!
We’d Bola Nath, Accountant,
An’ Saul the Aden Jew,
An’ Din Mohammed, draughtsman
Of the Survey Office too;
There was Babu Chuckerbutty,
An’ Amir Singh the Sikh,
An’ Castro from the fittin’-sheds,
The Roman Catholick!

We ‘adn’t good regalia,
An’ our Lodge was old an’ bare,
But we knew the Ancient Landmarks,
An’ we kep’ ‘em to a hair;
An’ lookin’ on it backwards
It often strikes me thus,
There ain’t such things as infidels,
Excep’, per’aps, it’s us.

For monthly, after Labour,
We’d all sit down and smoke
(We dursn’t give no banquits,
Lest a Brother’s caste were broke),
An’ man on man got talkin’
Religion an’ the rest,
An’ every man comparin’
Of the God ‘e knew the best.

So man on man got talkin’,
An’ not a Brother stirred
Till mornin’ waked the parrots
An’ that dam’ brain-fever-bird;
We’d say ‘twas ‘ighly curious,
An’ we’d all ride ‘ome to bed,
With Mo’ammed, God, an’ Shiva
Changin’ pickets in our ‘ead.

Full oft on Guv’ment service
This rovin’ foot ‘ath pressed,
An’ bore fraternal greetin’s
To the Lodges east an’ west,
Accordin’ as commanded
From Kohat to Singapore,
But I wish that I might see them
In my Mother-Lodge once more!

I wish that I might see them,
My Brethren black an’ brown,
With the trichies smellin’ pleasant
An’ the hog-darn passin’ down;
An’ the old khansamah snorin’
On the bottle-khana floor,
Like a Master in good standing
With my Mother-Lodge once more!

Outside—“Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Salaam!”
Inside—“Brother”, an’ it doesn’t do no ‘arm. We met upon the Level an’ we parted on the Square, An’ I was Junior Deacon in my Mother-Lodge out there!

Joseph Rudyard Kipling

Rudyard Kipling a ajuns ucenic la 21 de ani, intr-o loja din orasul pakistanez Lahore, atasamentul sau fata de riturile initiatice oglindindu-se in „Cartea Junglei" (1894) si in „Kim" (1901). In 1896, intors in Anglia, el redacteaza celebrul poem, care intretine nostalgia unei masonerii coloniale cu adevarat pluralista, toleranta si fraterna.