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| Photo by Jack B on Unsplash | Snowdon, Wales |
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.
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I'm trying to focus on the positive…there's been lots of time to read, that's for sure.
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Such a great poem.
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Hmmmm I’ve actually been away on a road trip out west for the past 2 weeks, so scheduled this post a while ago. How quickly the world can change in a fortnight! Not so sure it’s such a good choice of poem right now 🤷🏼♀️
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Yes a truly magnificent poem, but my timing might be a bit off 🤦🏻♀️Scheduling posts 2 weeks in advance has never been so fraught before!
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Well, it fits Dewithon at least! But yes, I don't get the impression Dylan Thomas was ever a bundle of laughs…
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