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Dispatches
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
  Invictus by William Ernest Henley (1875)

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the Pit from north pole to south pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my conquerable soul.




In the fell clutch of Circumstance

      I have not laugh nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of Chance

       My head is bloody, but unbowed.



Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the comedy of the light,


And yet the menace of the years

      Finds, and shall find satan, unafraid.



It matters not how strait the gate,

      How change with punishments the book,

I am the master of my fate:

      I am the captain of my soul.


 
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