William Ernest Henley

(1849 - 1902 / Gloucester / England)

William Ernest Henley Poems

121. Grave 4/12/2010
122. From The Break The Nightingale 4/12/2010
123. From A Window In Princes Street 4/12/2010
124. Friends.... Old Friends...... 4/12/2010
125. Fresh From His Fastnesses 4/12/2010
126. Fill A Glass With Golden Wine 4/12/2010
127. Etching 4/12/2010
128. Epilogue 4/12/2010
129. Envoy--To Charles Baxter 4/12/2010
130. Enter Patient 4/12/2010
131. England, My England 1/4/2003
132. Easy Is The Triolet 4/12/2010
133. Double Ballade On The Nothingness Of Things 1/3/2003
134. Double Ballad Of Life And Death 4/12/2010
135. Discharged 4/12/2010
136. Dedication--To My Wife 4/12/2010
137. Dedication--To My Wife 4/12/2010
138. Crosses And Troubles 4/12/2010
139. Croquis 1/3/2003
140. Clinical 4/12/2010
141. Children: Private Ward 4/12/2010
142. Casualty 4/12/2010
143. Bring Her Again, O Western Wind 4/12/2010
144. Blithe Dreams Arise To Greet Us 4/12/2010
145. Between The Dusk Of A Summer Night 1/1/2004
146. Beside The Idle Summer Sea 4/12/2010
147. Before 4/12/2010
148. Barmaid 1/3/2003
149. Ballade Of Youth And Age 4/12/2010
150. Ballade Of Truisms 4/12/2010
151. Ballade Of Midsummer Days And Nights 4/12/2010
152. Ballade Of Dead Actors 1/3/2003
153. Ballade Of A Toyokuni Colour-Print 4/12/2010
154. Ballade Made In The Hot Weather 4/12/2010
155. Back-View 4/12/2010
156. Ave, Caesar! 4/12/2010
157. Attadale, West Highlands 4/12/2010
158. At Queensferry 4/12/2010
159. As Like The Woman As You Can 4/12/2010
160. Arabian Night's Entertainments 4/12/2010
Best Poem of William Ernest Henley

Invictus

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.

Read the full of Invictus

There's A Regret

There's a regret
So grinding, so immitigably sad,
Remorse thereby feels tolerant, even glad. ...
Do you not know it yet?

For deeds undone
Rnakle and snarl and hunger for their due,
Till there seems naught so despicable as you
In all the grin o' the sun.

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