Pretty women wonder where my secret lies 
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size 
But when I start to tell them  
They think I'm telling lies.  
I say  
It's in the reach of my arms  
The span of my hips  
The stride of my steps  
The curl of my lips.  
I'm a woman  
Phenomenally  
Phenomenal woman  
That's me.

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.

  Alfred Noyes (1880-1958)

                                   The Highwayman

                                        PART ONE

                                                 I

    THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
    The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
    The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
    And the highwayman came riding—
                      Riding—riding—
    The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

                                                 II