(thanks Poetry Foundation): 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.
Man in India regains consciousness before his cremation on funeral pyre:
reports
-
A 25-year-old man who was declared dead in India regained consciousness
shortly before he was set to be cremated this week, according to reports.
34 minutes ago
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