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.