Do not go gentle into that good
night,
Old age should
and
burn
at close of day;
r
a
v
e
against the dying of the
Rage,
rage
light.
Though wise men at their end know
is right,
dark
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,
against the dying of the
Rage,
rage
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,
against the dying of the
Rage,
rage
light.
And you, my father, there on the
sad height,
me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Curse,
bless,
Do not go gentle into that good
night.
against the dying of the
Rage,
rage
light.