Barbara Burch
11:55 am, Monday 30th January 2012
Evan Jones (1907-69) Coronary care unit (CCU), St Thomas' Hospital, London
Barbara Burch in memoriam
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 women at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good women, 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 women 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 women, 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 mother, 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.
by Dylan Thomas
(with slight modifications)
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise women at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good women, 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 women 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 women, 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 mother, 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.
by Dylan Thomas
(with slight modifications)
