Here's the poem.
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 strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
Happy Wednesday all.
Ah, this poem is a full glass.
ReplyDeleteI tried memorizing this in ...high school. When I knew flat zero about the clutch of fell circumstance.
Needless to say, the words slithered from my fingers. But, I bet when I'm Mr. Freeman's age, I'll be able to recite it, too.