Mark’s Poem

Invictus   William Earnest Henley 

Out of the night that covets 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 & tears

Looms but horror of the shade

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid

It matters not how straight 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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