WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY
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.
��A
��854 Margarita? Sorori
LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies:
And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace.
The smoke ascends
In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires
Shine and aie changed. In the valley
Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The suu,
Closing his benediction,
Sinks, and the darkening air
Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night
Night with her train of stars
And her great gift of sleep.
So be my passing'
My task accomplish J d and the long day done, My wages taken, and in my heart Some late lark singing, Let me be gather'd to the quiet West, The sundown splendid and serene, Death.
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