Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
By Dylan Thomas
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.