Poem Collection

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

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.

Poem Collection continued below…

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow woodAnd sorry I could not travel bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I couldTo where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,And having perhaps the better claimBecause it was grassy and wanted wear,Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally layIn leaves no step had trodden black.Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to wayI doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sighSomewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,I took the one less traveled by,And that has made all the difference.

“ – If ” by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about youAre losing theirs and blaming it on you;If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,But make allowance for their doubting too:If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,Or being hated don't give way to hating,And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,If you can meet with Triumph and DisasterAnd treat those two impostors just the same:.If you can bear to hear the truth you've spokenTwisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winningsAnd risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,And lose, and start again at your beginnings,And never breathe a word about your loss:If you can force your heart and nerve and sinewTo serve your turn long after they are gone,And so hold on when there is nothing in youExcept the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,If all men count with you, but none too much:If you can fill the unforgiving minuteWith sixty seconds' worth of distance run,Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

A Psalm of Life by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (In this poem, Longfellow has summarized some of the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, which tells us to do our duty without thinking about the results)

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist:Tell me not, in mournful numbers,    Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers,    And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!    And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest,    Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,    Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow    Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,    And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating    Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,    In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle!    Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!    Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,— act in the living Present!    Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us    We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us    Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,    Sailing o’er life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,    Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,    With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing,    Learn to labor and to wait.