Do not go gentle into that good night, <br />Old age should burn and rave at close of day; <br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light. <br /> <br />Though wise men at their end know dark is right, <br />Because their words had forked no lightning they <br />Do not go gentle into that good night. <br /> <br />Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright <br />Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, <br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light. <br /> <br />Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, <br />And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, <br />Do not go gentle into that good night. <br /> <br />Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight <br />Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, <br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light. <br /> <br />And you, my father, there on that sad height, <br />Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. <br />Do not go gentle into that good night. <br />Rage, rage against the dying of the light.<br /><br />Dylan Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-not-go-gentle-into-that-good-night/
