He again hit a low when he became embroiled in a fight with his brother-in-law, which landed both in court and in local papers, forcing his move back to England. He moved to America and continued writing, publishing The Jungle Books together with much else. He was struck by misfortune once more when the bank where he kept his savings collapsed, leaving him penniless. After that period he was transferred to a school in Devon where he shone, becoming the editor of the school paper and embarking on his path as a writer, becoming a major success. His only break during that period was the holiday month of December, when he would head to London to stay with his mother's family. His first five years in England were scarred by the terrible abuse he endured there from his foster mother.
His childhood would continue for a short period along an upward slope in the wonderland where he was born, and then plunge dramatically at the age of six when he was sent to England for his education. The chart would have to start on a high point: his birth in India to a loving set of parents. Were you to write the biography of Rudyard Kipling as a graph, the first thing that would strike you would be the steep vertical zigzags. Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,Īnd - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, If all men count with you, but none too much: If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
To serve your turn long after they are gone,Īnd so hold on when there is nothing in youĮxcept the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew If you can make one heap of all your winningsĪnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,Īnd lose, and start again at your beginnings,Īnd never breathe a word about your loss: Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,Īnd stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterĪnd treat those two impostors just the same. If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim, If you can dream - and not make dreams your master Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,Īnd yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,īut make allowance for their doubting too: If you can keep your head when all about you
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