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