And you, my father, 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.
In this stanza Dylan Thomas addresses his own father, imploring him not to give in—to keep fighting.
The paradox of “curse, bless” in the second line implies that by cursing his son, Thomas’s father would actually be blessing him because it means that his father has not yet given up and submitted to the weariness of death.
Notice how much more punctuation there is in this stanza: this slows you down when you’re reading. He’s speaker personally now, and he wants to emphasize his points (he’s also emotionally affected).
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