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 not winced or 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 of the years
Finds and will find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How changed with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
— William Earnest Henley