The poem 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.
William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)
[James Stockdale, who used Stoicism to cope with captivity during the Vietnam War, says that this poem helped him get through the ordeals he faced.]
The short poem “The Old Stoic” by Emily Brontë.
The Old Stoic
Riches I hold in light esteem,
And love I laugh to scorn,
And lust of fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn.
And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me Is,
“Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!”
Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
‘Tis all that I implore –
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.
From Poems of Solitude by Emily Brontë