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

While most of my pages have original content and are intended for the general public. Visions was written for myself. I'm not much into poetry, but there are a few mostly classic works which I enjoy reading from time to time. I recently discovered, though I should not have been surprised, that posting these results in search hits from Alta Vista and similar robots for phrases such as "Do not go gentle into that good night," "I must got down to the sea again," or "I have a dream."

Some of these searches have included addiditional words, including "analysis," and "interpretation." For the most part, I'll decline such. These works stand on their own. They either speak to one, or not. Still, there is an answer to Dylan Thomas.

I am a fan of Audrey Hepburn. I'll claim she was a good woman, and wise. If she was not truly wild, she could play the part with flair given the right script, and grieve none in so doing. She was also grave in the end. She died of cancer. She knew she was terminal for the last three months, and the pain was considerable. Thus, like Dylan's father, but unlike Dylan himself, she stood on that sad height and saw what there was to be seen.

Just before she died, she spoke to a friend. "I'm sorry, but I'm ready to go."

Dylan's fater too, I suspect, was ready to go. Dylan's poem speaks as much of the loss of love and the feelings of one left behind as of death itself. To some extent, Dylan knew this. The night was spoken of as "good." He acknowledged his father stood somewhere he had not, and perhaps saw what he could not. Dylan was less ready to let go than his father, and his grief was perhaps the greater. His statement of this love and grief remains classic, but the argument that all types of men should cling to life might be questioned. Dylan had not stood upon that height. Perhaps the feelings of his father should have been more important than his own rage.