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Memory Work for Marking Period 1

Honors: 3 credits required                      Last day accepted ___________________________

Standard: 2 credits required


Memory work may be done at any time beginning right now. It is due by the last date. Do not wait until the last minute. If you are absent, your memory work is not in. You should not ask to give memory work late. Should you be hospitalized the last 2 weeks before memory work is due, you call me or get you parents to call and I will come and take your memory work where you are.

You are always expected to get to the end of a sentence. Should the line requirement not do that, be certain you check with me.


                     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 to wise:


If you can dream--and not make dreams your masters;

    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!



                       by W. E. Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.


In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.


Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.


It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

English IV