Invictus

out of the night that convers me.

Black as the poit 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 yeat the menace of the year

Finds and shall find me , unafraid.

I matters not how strait the gate

How charged with punishment the scroll

I am the master of fate

I am the captain of my soul