The NYT Crossword in Gothic Miscellaneous: 2010

Thursday, July 15, 2010

IF.....

IF….. by Rudyard Kipling, 1895

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!

Monday, July 5, 2010

Friday, June 4, 2010

The Gypsy in Me from Anything Goes

Long, long ago,
So long ago
I hardly know when,
My great-great-grandmother
Now and then
Stepped out with a gypsy.

I know you will say she was
A little bit tipsy.
But tipsy, no, no.
Of their love their wasn't a doubt,
So I can't wait to get the stage all set
So I can let the gypsy in me out.

Hiding away
There's a little bit of gypsy in me
That's never been found,
Waiting its day,
There's a little bit of gypsy in me
Just hanging around
Till the magicial night
When the stars by their light
Give mystery to the sleeping lagoon.
While a tinkling guitar
Not too near, not too far,
Gaily strums away,
Hums away
A titillating tune.
When I'm there in a dream
With the one in the world I worship passionately,
At the moment supreme
Will be shown the unknown
Gypsy in me.