INVICTUS
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 strait the gate, how
charged with punishments the scroll, I am
the master of my
fate; I am the captain of my soul.
William Earnest