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 fell the 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 at the shade;
and yet the menace of the year finds, 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.
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