Conquest

I found this poem while listening to Sterling W. Sill's talk titled "Bottles And Books" the title of the poem is: 


                        "Conquest"



Two years ago the stubble leered at him,
And great boulders stood to bar the way.
Old dying trees with twisted trunk and limb
Snarled in defiance like wild beasts at bay.
Others from time to time had scanned the space
But had not dared the struggle to begin;
So tangled was the growth that ruled the place
That few who passed it by would venture in.
And then he came and vowed to clear the land.
With drag and chain he slowly inched his way.
At night some new attack he sat and planned'
At dawn, undaunted, he resumed the fray.
I saw him once in battle, and I thought
His courage and his patience all in vain.
Today I passed the field whereon he fought
And it was flaming gold with ripening grain.


 [Author unknown]

 Ernest Henley was a hopeless cripple when he wrote "Invictus" and said:

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 veil 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 punishment the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.