Wilson Square is an urban square and roundabout, located in the Żoliborz area of Warsaw, Poland. Constructed around 1923, close to Sokolnicki Fort, part of the Warsaw Citadel, the square was designed by Józef Jankowski, Antoni Jawornicki, and Tadeusz Tołwiński. Initially named after Polish novelist Stefan Żeromski, the square was renamed in 1926 in honour of the recently-deceased US president Woodrow Wilson. The buildings around the square were partially destroyed in 1944, during World War II, and it was remodelled in 1955. The modern square features a lawn and greenery with a road running through it, as well as tram tracks and the Plac Wilsona metro station. This photograph shows an aerial view of Wilson Square from the south-east.Photograph credit: Emptywords
... that after supervising construction of London's Tower Bridge in the 1890s, engineer Edward Cruttwell was retained as consulting engineer to the bridge until his death in 1933?
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It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
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 all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath 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!