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. | |
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Though wise men at their end know dark is right, | |
Because their words had forked no lightning they | 5 |
Do not go gentle into that good night. | |
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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. | |
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Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, | 10 |
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, | |
Do not go gentle into that good night. | |
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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. | 15 |
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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. | |