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 bloodstained 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,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
How charged with punishments the scroll,
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