Do not go gently into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The closer I move To death, one man through his sundered hulks, The louder the sun blooms And the tusked, ramshackling sea exults.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
Do not go gentle into the good night. Old age should burn and rage at close of day.
Rage, rage against the dying light
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