William Ernest Henley

(1849 - 1902 / Gloucester / England)

William Ernest Henley Poems

121. Space And Dread And The Dark 4/12/2010
122. Staff Nurse: New Style 4/12/2010
123. Staff Nurse:Old Style 4/12/2010
124. Suicide 4/12/2010
125. The Chief 4/12/2010
126. The Full Sea Rolls And Thunders 4/12/2010
127. The Gods Are Dead 4/12/2010
128. The Nightingale Has A Lyre Of Gold 4/12/2010
129. The Past Was Goodly Once 4/12/2010
130. The Rain And The Wind 1/3/2003
131. The Sands Are Alive With Sunshine 4/12/2010
132. The Sea Is Full Of Wandering Foam 4/12/2010
133. The Shadow Of Dawn 4/12/2010
134. The Skies Are Strown With Stars 4/12/2010
135. The Song Of The Sword--To Rudyard Kipling 4/12/2010
136. The Spirit Of Wine 4/12/2010
137. The Spring, My Dear 4/12/2010
138. The Surges Gushed And Sounded 4/12/2010
139. The Wan Sun Westers, Faint And Slow 4/12/2010
140. The Ways Are Green 4/12/2010
141. The Ways Of Death Are Soothing And Serene 4/12/2010
142. The West A Glimmering Lake Of Light 4/12/2010
143. There Is A Wheel Inside My Head 4/12/2010
144. There's A Regret 1/3/2003
145. Thick Is The Darkness 4/12/2010
146. Time And The Earth 4/12/2010
147. To Me At My Fifth-Floor Window 4/12/2010
148. To My Mother 4/12/2010
149. To My Wife 4/12/2010
150. To: W A 4/12/2010
151. Tree, Old Tree Of The Triple Crook 4/12/2010
152. Trees And The Menace Of Night 4/12/2010
153. Unconquerable 4/12/2010
154. Under A Stagnant Sky 4/12/2010
155. Vigil 4/12/2010
156. Villanelle 4/12/2010
157. Villon's Straight Tip To All Cross Coves 1/1/2004
158. Visitor 4/12/2010
159. Waiting 4/12/2010
160. We Are The Choice Of The Will 4/12/2010
Best Poem of 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.

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.

[Hata Bildir]