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.
Our civilization has fallen out of touch with night. With lights, we drive the holiness and beauty of night back to the forests and the sea the little villages, the crossroads even, will have none of it. Are modern folk, perhaps, afraid of night Do they fear that vast serenity, the mystery of infinite space, the austerity of stars