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 winced but not cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning’s
of chance, My head is bloodied 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 straight the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I
am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.
by William Earnest Henley
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