Acı ve gözyaşlarıyla dolu bu mekanın ötesinde, sadece gölgelerin dehşeti hüküm sürer. - William Ernest Henley

Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

My songs were once of the sunrise:
They shouted it over the bar;
First-footing the dawns, they flourished,
And flamed with the morning star. My songs are now of the sunset:
Their brows are touched with light,
But their feet are lost in the shadows
And wet with the dews of night.

What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?