Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night-Dylan Thomas. Very profound for me.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
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 it’s 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,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas
1914 – 1953
2007-03-17 16:10:29
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answer #1
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answered by Someone Else 5
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Sailing To Byzantium
by
William Butler Yeats
THAT is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
- Those dying generations - at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God's holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
2007-03-18 08:06:13
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answer #2
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answered by aa.gabriel 4
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My favorite poems are footprints in the sand by Mary Stevenson and to everything there is season from Ecclesiastes. I love those to poems.
2007-03-17 17:13:08
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answer #3
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answered by Susie B 6
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The Men That Don't Fit In by Robert W. Service
2007-03-17 16:12:43
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answer #4
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answered by kkrb 2
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It would have to be Aint I a woman by sourjourner truth
2007-03-17 16:10:19
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answer #5
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answered by dancingqueen 5
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my favorite poem is called "forget" but i don't know who it's by.
~chocolate lover
2007-03-17 16:44:20
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answer #6
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answered by Chocolate Lover♥ 7
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where the side walk ends
2007-03-17 16:10:54
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answer #7
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answered by blondebeauty 4
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