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 Ernest Henley,

London Voluntaries, 1898.