by William Ernest Henley
Out of the nightthat covers me,
Black as the Pitfrom pole to pole,
I thank whatevergods may be
For myunconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not wincednor cried aloud.
Under thebludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody,but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears ,
Looms but thehorror of the shade.
And yet the menaceof the years
Finds,and shallfind me,unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged withpunishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.