Invictus

by 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.

Comment: I had no idea this was a poem. I had heard of the movie about Nelson Mandela but did not realize that the title is based on this poem and that "Invictus" in Latin (at least according to Wikipedia means "unconquered". I've never heard of William Ernest Henley (is he a famous poet?), but this poem has a good story. Apparently he wrote it after his legs were amputated due to tuberculosis of the bone. When he originally published it, there was no title. An editor later added it. The last two lines are the soul of the poem. I wonder about the truth behind them. Are we really the masters of our fate and the captains of our soul? Are these things that can be captained or mastered? Are we more the stewards of our souls? The keepers, the protectors?