Do Not Go Gentle

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise folk ending know that dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good folk, last wave by, cry how bright

Frail deeds might have danced in a cerulean bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild folk, catching and singing the sun's flight,

Learning, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave folk, near death, seeing with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Mother, you see me now from your sad height,

Bane, bless, me with fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.