By Earl P. Holt III

Out of the mess that stifled us,
So deep the swamp and black as coal,
I thank Almighty God that be,
For this unconquerable soul.

A target of vile “journalists,”
He never quit nor cried aloud.
Despite the blizzards of their lies,
He stood un-bloodied and unbowed.

Against their seas of perfidy,
So often he was forced to wade.
And yet that menace of the years,
Still found him, always, unafraid.

It matters not how thin his pate,
How filled with libel be their scroll,
He is the master of his fate:
He is the captain of his soul.


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