wYnSh
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7314 |
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the yearsFinds, and shall find me, unafraid.
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;I am the captain of my soul.