->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.
-->-- Dylan Thomas