Make hay, make hay into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,

or make hay shall I say,

old age should be a spell at the close of the day,

whispering… make hay, make hay into the dying of the light.

Though wise men know truth is an incense in the ear,

and no light can cure man's darkness they,

Proclaim until that good night.

Good men,

who gave carrots to horses,

and built trees for the village,

die with sticks,

against the dying of the light.

Though men know night shall come,

they rage and rage into that good night.

~Jesunifemi.