"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...
It matters not how strait the gait,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul."
(William Ernest Henley, 1849-1903, from 'Invictus', more precisely titled: Echoes, No4, In Memoriam RT Hamilton Bruce, written in 1888.)
I had to memorize this in Junior High School. At that time, I wondered what good memorizing this piece would ever do me....
And now I know...