William Ernest Henley

(1849 - 1902 / Gloucester / England)

William Ernest Henley Poems

1. Since Those We Love And Those We Hate 2/18/2015
2. With Strawberries We Filled A Tray 12/16/2014
3. Tree, Old Tree Of The Triple Crook 4/12/2010
4. From A Window In Princes Street 4/12/2010
5. Prologue 4/12/2010
6. Scrubber 4/12/2010
7. The Ways Are Green 4/12/2010
8. While The West Is Paling 4/12/2010
9. To Me At My Fifth-Floor Window 4/12/2010
10. We Flash Across The Level 4/12/2010
11. Staff Nurse: New Style 4/12/2010
12. The Full Sea Rolls And Thunders 4/12/2010
13. Visitor 4/12/2010
14. London Types: Beef-Eater 4/12/2010
15. London Types: The Artist Muses At His Ease 4/12/2010
16. London Types:Life-Guardsman 4/12/2010
17. Staff Nurse:Old Style 4/12/2010
18. In Fisherrow 4/12/2010
19. Fresh From His Fastnesses 4/12/2010
20. The Chief 4/12/2010
21. Orientale 4/12/2010
22. From The Break The Nightingale 4/12/2010
23. House-Surgeon 4/12/2010
24. Villanelle 4/12/2010
25. Where Forlorn Sunsets Flare And Fade 4/12/2010
26. When The Wind Storms By With A Shout 4/12/2010
27. London Types: 'Liza 4/12/2010
28. Space And Dread And The Dark 4/12/2010
29. Easy Is The Triolet 4/12/2010
30. Etching 4/12/2010
31. Gull In An Aery Morrice 4/12/2010
32. Discharged 4/12/2010
33. Pastoral 4/12/2010
34. You Played And Sang A Snatch Of Song 4/12/2010
35. Vigil 4/12/2010
36. Trees And The Menace Of Night 4/12/2010
37. Clinical 4/12/2010
38. Ballade Of Youth And Age 4/12/2010
39. Enter Patient 4/12/2010
40. London Types: Sandwich-Man 4/12/2010
Best Poem of 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.

Read the full of Invictus

If I Were King

If I were king, my pipe should be premier.
The skies of time and chance are seldom clear,
We would inform them all with bland blue weather.
Delight alone would need to shed a tear,
For dream and deed should war no more together.

Art should aspire, yet ugliness be dear;
Beauty, the shaft, should speed with wit for feather;
And love, sweet love, should never fall to sere,

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