Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank what ever gods may be
for my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried alound.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the sade,
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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