Old age should burn and rage at close of day; Rage, on and on against the dying of the light. Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Will , not go gentle into the cold night. Good men to late the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, But rage on and on , against the dying of the light. Wild men who saw and caught, then ,sang the sun in flight, And they 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 bright Rage, on and on 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. I pray you do not go gentle into that good night. But rage, on and on against the dying of the light.”
Posted on: Mon, 17 Jun 2013 23:19:04 +0000
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