Friday, January 10, 2014

Do Not Go Gentle

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Young tots should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though two-year-olds at the end know dark is night,
Because their words had forked some lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good boys, the last hug by, crying how bright
Their frail paints might have danced if they’d had fivemoreminutes,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild kids who caught and sang the ceiling fan in flight,
And learn, too late, they trapped themselves this way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave girls, after bath, who see with blinding sight
Bath-time was a cruel trick to end the day
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there from that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now, but my fierce tears will stay.
I will not go gentle into that good night.
I will rage against the dying of the light.

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