![]() ![]() Reading this poem, one can’t help but be swept by the angry, impassioned voice, crying out against life ebbing away at death’s knell. If this is your first time reading it, I hope you will enjoy this short, little introduction of mine. This well known poem by Dylan Thomas is both widely read and loved, and it also happens to be one of my favourite poems too. Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightīlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Īnd you, my father, there on that sad height,Ĭurse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Īfter last week’s light and lovely “Dragonflies”, I thought I just might turn to something dark this week. Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,Īnd learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, ![]() Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Though wise men at their end know dark is right,īecause their words had forked no lightning they ![]() Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Old age should burn and rave at close of day ![]()
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