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Old 09-08-2012, 05:34 AM   #1
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Default Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

In perusing material for my eulogy for my dad this came up. thought that some here might appreciate it.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

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 that 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.

Dylan Thomas



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Old 09-08-2012, 03:28 PM   #2
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Interesting. If your dad liked/ or would have liked it, I would use it.



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Old 09-08-2012, 03:42 PM   #3
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Interesting. If your dad liked/ or would have liked it, I would use it.

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Old 09-08-2012, 03:44 PM   #4
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Dylan Thomas is applicable to the occasion. I'm sorry Viking to know of your father's passing. Mine passed a month ago. They'll be plenty of friends and family to greet him.

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Old 09-08-2012, 07:42 PM   #5
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It's a great and meaningful poem and Dylan Thomas was a great writer. Use it if you feel it's appropriate.

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Old 09-08-2012, 07:53 PM   #6
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That's a great poem. Never thought I'd be discussing poetry on a gun forum.


My sincere condolences.

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Old 09-08-2012, 08:01 PM   #7
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This is the last stanza from a William Cullen Bryant poem. It has been one of my favorites:

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams

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Old 09-08-2012, 09:01 PM   #8
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This was one of my Mom's favorites. When she was very ill I would borrow poetry books from the library and read poems to her. My Dad would get mad at me when I'd read this one to her.....but she liked it. He thought we shouldn't mention 'death' because she was dying.

O Captain! My Captain!


O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.


My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

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Old 09-09-2012, 03:18 AM   #9
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Quote:
Originally Posted by PanBaccha View Post
Dylan Thomas is applicable to the occasion. I'm sorry Viking to know of your father's passing. Mine passed a month ago. They'll be plenty of friends and family to greet him.
I am sorry to hear of your loss as well. My condolences.

Quote:
Originally Posted by drvsafe View Post
That's a great poem. Never thought I'd be discussing poetry on a gun forum.


My sincere condolences.
Just another unexpected way that makes this forum one of the best and most enlightening on the Internet! You never know what you will find here.

Thank you for your sentiments.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Chainfire View Post
This is the last stanza from a William Cullen Bryant poem. It has been one of my favorites:

So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams
Nice, I will take it under consideration.

Quote:
Originally Posted by winds-of-change View Post
This was one of my Mom's favorites. When she was very ill I would borrow poetry books from the library and read poems to her. My Dad would get mad at me when I'd read this one to her.....but she liked it. He thought we shouldn't mention 'death' because she was dying.

O Captain! My Captain!


O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.


My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman
The best conversations on death that I have ever had have been with the dying. Whitman was one of Dad's favorites as well. Thank you for posting this.
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Old 09-09-2012, 12:59 PM   #10
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1 Corinthians 15:55
" O' death, where is thy sting? O' grave, where is thy victory?" (alluding to the continuity of life after this one).

Or the last quote from the book: 'The Hierophant Of 100th Street'

"There are no goodbyes;
Therein lies the irony;
And so we'll dance again."


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