nico on Nostr: Don’t know why but one of my favorite poems. Still strikes a cord every time I read ...
Don’t know why but one of my favorite poems. Still strikes a cord every time I read it:
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.
Published at
2024-07-12 08:30:28Event JSON
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"content": "Don’t know why but one of my favorite poems. Still strikes a cord every time I read it:\n\nDo not go gentle into that good night,\nOld age should burn and rave at close of day;\nRage, rage against the dying of the light.\n\nThough wise men at their end know dark is right,\nBecause their words had forked no lightning they\nDo not go gentle into that good night.\n\nGood men, the last wave by, crying how bright\nTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,\nRage, rage against the dying of the light.\n\nWild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,\nAnd learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,\nDo not go gentle into that good night.\n\nGrave men, near death, who see with blinding sight\nBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, \nRage, rage against the dying of the light.\n\nAnd you, my father, there on the sad height,\nCurse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.\nDo not go gentle into that good night.\nRage, rage against the dying of the light.",
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