Under the bludgeoning of Chance




Here’s a poem from William Ernest Henley:



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 bludgeoning 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.


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/bludgeon/”>Bludgeon</a&gt;


4 thoughts on “Under the bludgeoning of Chance

  1. I love that poem. Memorized it by back in 8th grade. Interesting how bludgeoning of chance immediately brings up an image of somebody continuously being hit by gale force horrible things. But he or she keeps going.

    Liked by 1 person

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