◈ Invictus William Ernest Henley (1849~1903) 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. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the mast..