Poetry Sunday

It's a sad weekend at our home, as my father passed away on Friday night. It was not completely unexpected, but is - of course - sad for those of us left behind to celebrate his life and mourn his passing.

Dad was very fond of the work of the Welsh writer and poet Dylan Thomas. Listening to our recording of Thomas reading his classic prose poem "A Child's Christmas in Wales" was always a highlight of our Christmas season, and I know that Dad would also appreciate one of the most famous of Dylan Thomas's poems as we celebrate his life and the legacy he leaves behind.

Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night

by Dylan Thomas

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.


So long, Dad. We'll miss you.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo