Keith b key omega psi phi poems

Invictus

By 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.

 

THE BRIDGE BUILDER

by: Wm.

Allen Dromgoole

An old man, going a lone highway, came at the evening,
cold and gray, to a chasm, vast and deep and wide, through
which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim – that sullen stream
had no fears for him, but he turned when he reached the other
side, and built a bridge to span the sullen tide.

“Old Man&#