Do not go gentle into that good night , Old age should burn and rave at close of dayRage , rage against the dying of the light . Though wise men at their end know dark is right , Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night . Good men , the last wave by , crying how brightTheir 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 sightBlind 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