Do not go gentle into that good night

  • Do not go gentle into that good night,
  • Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
  • Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
  • Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
  • Because their words had forked no lightning they
  • Do not go gentle into that good night.
  • Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
  • Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
  • Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
  • Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
  • And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
  • Do not go gentle into that good night.
  • Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
  • Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
  • Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
  • And you, my father, there on the sad height,
  • Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
  • Do not go gentle into that good night.
  • Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas 1914-1953

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