Was there a Time
by: Dylan Thomas

Was there a time when dancers with their fiddlesIn children's circuses coul stay their troubles?There was a time they could cry over books,But time has set its maggot on their track.Under the arc of the sky they are unsafe.What's never known is safest in this life.Under the skysigns they who have no armsHave cleanest hands, and, as the heartless ghostAlone's unhurt, so the blind man sees best.


Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night
by: Dylan Thomas

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir 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 sightBlind 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 prayDo not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light.