Invictus 

Out of the night that covers me
black as a 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 or cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning 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 punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

 By William E. Henley