I can remember walking into Cline Library at NAU (flannel pajama pants, hair in messy bun) and seeing nerdy Matty sitting there with his laptop and carmex. I walked over and during the course of our conversation his "inspiration" came up...Invictus. I, of course, was totally taken in by it and I remember calling my mom and asking her if she knew the poem...of course she did and she proceeded to recite it. This was Matt's only hope of making it in the family--that and the fact that he was an eagle scout ;)
I decided to use it for a YW lesson on opposition. I love it.
So print this boy out and stick it to your fridge or put it by your nightstand--read it whenever you're feeling overwhelmed or struggling. William Henly penned this from his hospital bed when he was still a young man sick with tuburculosis of the bone, and his "fighting spirit" is very inspirational.
Invictus
-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 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."
5 comments:
That is a great poem. I can also visualize you really well in those pajama pants and messy bun. Weird how we used to dress like that in public. Even weirder that it scored you a husband.
very nice... unfortunately your brother's arrogance with regards to poetry force me to comment. excellent poem - its great to rediscover it after a few years.
Here is one I always thought echoed the same sentiments. I pologize for the gruff language, but c'mon - its Robert W. Service!
The Quitter
by Robert W. Service
When you're lost in the wild and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and... die
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In humger and woe, oh its easy to blow...
It's the hell served for breakfast that's hard.
"You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know-but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damndest and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.
It's easy to cry that you're beaten-and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight-
Why that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each grueling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try-it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.
Sorry to take up so much space - I just loved your post, Megan
Love the poem, and David's is an old favorite of mine! I can't top either.
who the heck is this "David" guy anyway?
Cristin-I believe you were with me--we made fun of the carmex...or was that Jamie?
David-I mean Tai-Pan, I love the addition...we have Britain VS. USA on who can keep their head up better!!
Sabra-can't wait to see ya next week! ;)
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