out of the night that convers me.
Black as the poit 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 yeat the menace of the year
Finds and shall find me , unafraid.
I matters not how strait the gate
How charged with punishment the scroll
I am the master of fate
I am the captain of my soul
