Dylan Thomas
Dylan Thomas
Dylan Marlais Thomaswas a Welsh poet and writer whose works include the poems "Do not go gentle into that good night" and "And death shall have no dominion"; the 'play for voices' Under Milk Wood; and stories and radio broadcasts such as A Child's Christmas in Wales and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog. He became widely popular in his lifetime and remained so after his premature death at the age of 39 in New York City. By...
NationalityWelsh
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth27 October 1914
CitySwansea, Wales
Do not go gentle into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light.
To begin at the beginning: It is a spring moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black.
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...
This bread I break was once the oat, This wine upon a foreign tree Plunged in its fruit; Man in the day or wind at night Laid the crops low, broke the grape's joy.
And on seesaw Sunday nights, I'd woo who ever I would with my wicked eye!
I learnt the verbs of will, and had my secret; The code of night tapped on my tongue; What had been one was many sounding minded.
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
Do not go gentle into the good night. Old age should burn and rage at close of day.
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.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobbledstreets silent and the hunched courters'-and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea.
Do not go gently into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Life always offers you a second chance. is called tomorrow.
Dylan talked copiously, then stopped. 'Somebody's boring me,' he said, 'I think it's me.'