William Ernest Henley. 1849-1903
842. Invictus
1 min to read
103 words

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 unbow'd.

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.

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William Ernest Henley. 1849-1903
843. Margaritae Sorori
1 min to read
127 words
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