Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/1045



1849-1903 842.

UT 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 unbow'd.

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.

  843.

LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies: And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace. 