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
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
b l a z e
like meteors
and be gay,
Rage,
R A G E
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.
,
AGAINST
the dying
of
the
light.
Dylan Thomas
(Oct. 27, 1914–Nov. 9 1953)
(Oct. 27, 1914–Nov. 9 1953)
