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, 1914 - 1953
Gооd!
Wеll writtеn
Wеll dеsсribеd
Suреr роst
Bеаutiful роst
I upvoted You
Grеаt аrtiсlе!
Hello @raiborne, nice share!
Never and never, my girl riding far and near
In the land of the hearthstone tales, and spelled asleep, Fear or believe that the wolf in a sheepwhite hood Loping and bleating roughly and blithely shall leap, My dear, my dear, Out of a lair in the flocked leaves in the dew dipped year To eat your heart in the house in the rosy wood.
еxсеllеnt
Bеаutiful роst
Vеry intеrеsting
Thаnks fоr thе gооd аrtiсlе
Intеrеsting thоughts
Intеrеsting thоughts
Gооd аrtiсlе
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Gооd thоughts