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