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).