Do not go gentle into that good night.
Old age should rave and burn at close of day.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at the 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 past, 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 learned, 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 can blaze like meteors and be gay
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that 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.
"Do not go gentle into that good night", Dylan Thomas