Sunday, March 29, 2015

Sunday Morning Poetry

 

 Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

    Do not go gentle into that good night,
    Old age should burn and rage 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

Sometimes poetry is a miracle, but it is never ordinary.  Thanks, friends, for joining me on my ordinary miracles adventure. 

6 comments:

Mac n' Janet said...

Always been one of my favorite poems.

Anonymous said...

I was just thinking of this poem the other day. Thank you!

GraceGal said...

Beautiful!

Hindsfeet said...

perfect timing, more than you know, I'm glad you were here today...

love,
Liz ~*

Marilyn Miller said...

Oh "rage against the dying light." For sure! Shout, laugh, Dance, and cry!

alexa said...

One of my favourites too. Though I am moving more into acceptance rather than rage the older i get!

Oldies, but Goodies