By Dylan Thomas
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.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
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Don’t surrender quietly or passively into death (the “good night”).
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
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Even in old age, people should fight passionately (“burn and rave”) as life ends (“close of day”).
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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Resist death forcefully. The “dying of the light” symbolizes life fading.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
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Even intelligent, philosophical men accept that death is natural (“dark is right”).
Because their words had forked no lightning they
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But they still fight death because they feel their ideas haven’t made a big enough impact—haven’t changed the world (“forked no lightning”).
Do not go gentle into that good night.
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So they don’t surrender easily either.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
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Moral, decent men (“Good men”) near death (“the last wave”) lament how brightly their actions could have shone.
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
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Even if their good deeds were small (“frail”), they could have been beautiful and vibrant—like waves dancing in a bay.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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They, too, resist death with passion.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
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Adventurous, passionate people who lived fully, chasing life’s energy (“sang the sun”).
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
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They only realize too late that they’re dying—the sun they chased is setting.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
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Even they resist death.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
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Serious (“grave”) men, close to death, suddenly gain clarity and insight (“blinding sight”).
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
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Even those losing vision (or hope) can burn brightly in their last moments, like meteors—brilliant and joyful (“gay”).
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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So they too rage against death.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
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Now the speaker addresses his dying father, who is at the brink of death (“sad height”).
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
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He begs his father to react emotionally—whether with anger or love—just to show he’s still fighting.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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The repeated plea: don’t give in, keep resisting death to the very end.