Go To Sleep, Girls

Daughters do not go gentle into that good night.

Young girls do burn and rave at close of day,

And rage, rage against the mother every night.

Though wise-ass girls in the end know mom is right,

Because their shouts have sparked great lightning, they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Strong girls, the last heads down, trying so hard

Their wild deeds to keep on spinning in a dark room,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Willful girls who catch the sun when its most bright,

And learn, too late, they should not grieve their mum tonight,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Tired girls, near sleep, whose eyes will not shut tight,

(Those eyes do blaze like meteors while I sigh),

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, their father, there on the sad couch,

Curse them, force them now with your fierce words, I pray.

Make them go into that good night.

Rage, rage against the striving of the sprites.

* * *

with gratitude and apologies to Dylan Thomas