Out of the night that covers me, Black as a 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 bludgeoning 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 o f 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
William Ernest Henley (1849-1902)
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