Yes I did, and so I told her all the things I'd been dreamin' of
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Rage, rage unto the night!
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Do not go gentle into that good night.
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Do not go gentle into that good night, |