Go now, quick, gently into that good death,
Your bones are old,
burn with rage at the close of night;
Run, run against the
dying of the sun.
If you were wise you
have nothing to hide!
God has counted your
hours and days, accordingly;
Go now, quick, gently
into that good death.
Devils and angels,
wait and wave, your ways!
They are weighting
your deeds on a balancing gauge!
Run, run against the
dying of the sun.
Good men caught
frail, lost in the wilds of sin—
Snagged, learn late,
too late, soon will grieve of their fate,
Go now, quick, gently
into that good grave.
And you, you my
friend, who has reached the end,
Cursed or blessed, I
do not know, with stark cries I pray:
Run, run against the
dying of the sun,
Maybe it is not too
late to change your fate!
No:
4740/3-28-2015
