• 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 bludgeoning of
  • 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 have the captain of my soul.

By William Ernest Henley

6 replies »

      • Hmm…I hadn’t quite thought about that. Typically I’m rather reserved and formal when talking about poetry (that’s what you get when you study Romantic Era poetry for a few years, and then move on to John Milton and his contemporaries!), but this poem just seemed alright to speak like that. Really cool insight πŸ™‚


      • I feel, that if the writing does not inspire thought, action, insight or debate, it really hasn’t done it’s job. And yes, that combination would have anybody spinning in circles. It’s awesome that you got something out it. Thanks for sharing with me.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Oh I agree. And I didn’t mean to say that poetry doesn’t inspire thought and debate, but just that this poem makes me respond in a different way. It’s strange. Not sure if it makes sense. Any time πŸ™‚


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