Friday, 22 August 2008
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Out Of The Night That Covers Me (Invictus)
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.
William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)
That was Nonno's favourite poem. He used to make me recite it for him all the time, although I could only ever remember the first verse.
He was born August 22nd, 1918. He would have been 90 today.
I don't know how many of these dates I'm supposed to live through, but I sure as hell hope they get easier.
How are you supposed to live the rest of your life knowing that the greatest man you have ever known won't be there any more?