INVICTUS
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.