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.

As with varnish red and
Dripped his hair; his feet looked rigid;
Raised, he settled stiffly sideways:
You could see his hurts were spinal

The morning mists still haunt the stony street;
The northern summer air is shrill and cold;
And lo, the Hospital, grey, quiet, old,
Where Life and Death like friendly chafferers meet

I am the Reaper
All things with heedful hook Silent I gather
Pale roses touched with the spring, Tall corn in summer, Fruits rich with autumn, and frail winter blossoms— Reaping, still reaping— All things with heedful hook Timely I gathe...

The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain The sum is always plain
Read on the mighty pall,

Bring her again,
O western wind,  Over the western sea
Gentle and good and fair and kind,  Bring her again to me
Not that her fancy holds me dear,  Not that a hope may be:

Two and thirty is the ploughman
He's a man of gallant inches,
And his hair is close and curly,
And his beard;

Beside the idle summer sea,
And in the vacant summer days,
Light Love came fluting down the ways,
Where you were loitering with me

In Rotten Row a cigaretteI sat and smoked, with no
For all the tumult that had been
The distances were still and green,
And streaked with shadows cool and wet

Here in this dim, dull, double-bedded room,
I play the father to a brace of boys,
Ailing but apt for every sort of noise,
Bedfast but brilliant yet with health and bloom

Laughs the happy April
Thro' my grimy, little window,
And a shaft of sunshine
Thro' the shadows in the square

Between the dusk of a summer night And the dawn of a summer day, We caught at a mood as it passed in flight, And we bade it stoop and stay
And what with the dawn of night began With the dusk of day was done; For that is the way of woman and m...