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...

With a ripple of leaves and a tinkle of streams
  The full world rolls in a rhythm of praise,
And the winds are one with the clouds and beams—
    Midsummer days! midsummer days!
  The dusk grows vast; in a purple haze,
While the west from a rapture of...