Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
I am the captain of my soul.
-by William Ernest Henley; 1849-1903
