Invictus

By William Ernest 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 not winced nor cried aloud;

Under the bludgeonings 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 shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,

How charged with punishment the scroll;

I am the master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul.