Dylan Thomas

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