Out of the night that covers me.
Black as the Pit from pole to pole.
I thanks whaterver Gods may be.
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance.
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of fate.
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 sell find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate.
How charged with punishment the scroll.
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
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