Poem: Invictus by William Ernest Henley
I've been inspired by the recent poetry meme that went around - you see, I have a lot of favourite poems. I used to get anthologies out of the library and copy out the poems I liked the most. A couple of years doing that, and I've got four and a half A5 notebooks to the tune of 291 poems (I counted earlier because I was curious).
Anyway, I was going to put them all on the PC as well, but I never got around to it. Now I'm thinking I'll post one or two a week here - should take a couple of years to get through them all.
I'm going to try and say something about why I like them and I'd love to know what other people think as well.
Invictus
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
This is actually my mother's favourite poem, or it was the last I heard anyway. I made a collection of poems for her several years back and it was the first one I included. So apart from the fact that I like the attitude of the poem, it always makes me think of her.
Anyway, I was going to put them all on the PC as well, but I never got around to it. Now I'm thinking I'll post one or two a week here - should take a couple of years to get through them all.
I'm going to try and say something about why I like them and I'd love to know what other people think as well.
Invictus
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
This is actually my mother's favourite poem, or it was the last I heard anyway. I made a collection of poems for her several years back and it was the first one I included. So apart from the fact that I like the attitude of the poem, it always makes me think of her.