Invictus

William Ernest Henley

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.

This is inner fortitude. The title is Latin for "unconquered".

And this expression of defiance wasn't written by a man who had it easy, not at all. Henley was crippled by tuberculosis, yet his attitude allowed him to become one of Victorian England's greatest critics, editors, and poets. He chose not to see all the limitations in his life, but all the possibilities, and he left his mark on history. Or, rather, he made his mark on history.