Not sure if it is punctuated correctly or even if it is accurate. I searched the web and took the first version I found.....
William Ernest Henley - 1849–1903
Invictis
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 bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloodied, 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 scrolls,
I am the master of my fate.
I am the Captain of my soul.
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1 comment:
It's a neat poem, but so Victorian.
I like this one, hope you do too.
AWAY, MELANCHOLY - STEVIE SMITH
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go
Are not the trees green,
The earth as green?
Does not the wind blow,
Fire leap and the rivers flow?
Away melancholy.
The ant is busy
He carrieth his meat,
All things hurry
To be eaten or eat.
Away, melancholy.
Man, too, hurries,
Eats, couples, buries,
He is an animal also
With a hey ho melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Man of all creatures
Is superlative
(Away melancholy)
He of all creatures alone
Raiseth a stone
(Away melancholy)
Into the stone, the god
Pours what he knows of good
Calling, good, God.
Away melancholy, let it go.
Speak not to me of tears,
Tyranny, pox, wars,
Saying, Can God
Stone of man's thoughts, be good?
Say rather it is enough
That the stuffed
Stone of man's good, growing,
By man's called God.
Away, melancholy, let it go.
Man aspires
To good,
To love,
Sighs;
Beaten, corrupted, dying
In his own blood lying
Yet heaves up an eye above
Cries, Love, love.
It is his virtue needs explaining, Not his failing.
Away, melencholy,
Away with it, let it go.
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