Invictus
by William Earnest 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 winced
but not cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings 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 strait the gate, How charged with
punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
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