Do Not Go Gentle

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.

And you, my father, there on the 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.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

The dying of the light.