Friday, December 18, 2015

December Poetry


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. 

William Ernest Henley, 1875


Rambling Woods said...

I am the master of my soul..... Yes, we need more people who want to be good souls...

Florence said...

Actually, Michelle, I was thinking of your courage when I posted this.

Anonymous said...

My mother loved this poem. Also Dorothy Paker's "Razors pain you, rivers are damp, something something and drugs cause cramp. Guns aren't lawful and nooses give, gas smells awful you might as well live." Mom was a depressed person, however. Hopefully you are doing well, and will have a happy holiday!