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.
By William Ernest Henley
Boadicea's Chariot 
Love it, BB 🙂
Glad to be of service!
Although, being the provocative pseudo left wing hintalekshul that I am, I nearly called it ‘Perfidious Albion’ instead… 🙂
It could be construed either way. I love Margaritae Sorori, by the way; it’s very different, not as familiar, but some would recognise the last stanza:
“So be my passing!
My task accomplish’d and the long day done,
My wages taken, and in my heart
Some late lark singing,
Let me be gather’d to the quiet west,
The sundown splendid and serene,
Death.”]
I have to confess, I prefer Invictus; it’s rather more gung ho !
I was not familiar with that one, but love poetry that is atmospheric and ethereal.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/margaritae-sorori/
I hadn’t a clue about his poetry, BB, but doing some research for my mother’s funeral, I came across W.E. Henley.
In the end I read one I had written some time ago, but I amended it slightly:
http://detectivemouse.wordpress.com/2010/03/21/ghosts/
It is beautiful, Ara. The imagery reminds me, slightly, of that passage in Wolf Hall, I think, where Thomas Cromwell can almost sense the spirits of his wife and children flitting around and whispering and brushing against him.
You are too kind, BB, but thank you. I do think that in some places one can sense the history and the people, and those we miss especially. In this way they still are with us; it is my only sense of immortality, which is what I was trying to say in my poem.
Well, it is a beautiful poem. The imagery is like thin spun gossamer; very fine and personal.
🙂
I have enjoyed your post, BB, and I’m off to bed!
Night night and sleep well. xx
Night Ara.x