Out of the night that covers me,
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I am the captain of my soul.Ā
WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY