Interlude by William Ernest Henley
O, the fun, the fun and frolic
that The Wind that Shakes the Barley
scatters through a penny-whistle
Tickled with artistic fingers!
…
Grinning, in herself a ballet,
Fixed as Fate upon Her audience.
…
Splinted fingers tap the rhythm;
And a head all helmed with plasters
Wags a measured approbation.
…
…. …
… …. …
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.
… …
… … …
It maters 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.
