William Ernest Henley
Today's poem is a classic of individual determination written by William Ernest Henley, a Victorian poet who survived tuberculosis of the bone and the amputation of part of his leg. It reflects a steely-eyed refusal to surrender but was much idealized by the mentality of his day. It's a vision with its dark side (as are they all), but it is a classic for a reason, and bears repeating:
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.
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