Do not go gentle into that bright light

Do not go gentle into that bright light,
Sunrise should burn and rave at rise of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the night.

Though vampires at their end know sun is bright,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good light.

Banshee, the last wave by,
crying how slight Their frail deeds aflight have expired in a waking day,
Rage, rage against the dying of the night.

Wild fae who caught and sang the stars in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved them on their way,
Do not go gentle into that good light.

Specters, near end, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the night.