An Amusing Habit Pays Off (edit: not really)

I'm in the (amusing) habit of picking up pieces of paper and reading whatever's written on them in the hope that its something interesting. Most times its a homework assignment or something like a shopping list but every once in a while my odd tendencies are rewarded. Next to a travel mug (which I also claimed) I found this poem scrawled in hasty cursive which I struggled to decode. There was no title, there was no author, only the musings of what I imagine to be a tortured soul. Enjoy:

Untitled

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at the

close of day

Though wise men at their end know dark is

right

Because their words had bored 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 dared in a green by

rage, rage against the dying of light.

Wild men who caught and sang the song in

flight;

and learn, too late, they grieved it on its

way,

Do not go gentle into that good night

Brave men, near death who see with blinding

sight, blind eyes that blame like

Ok thats not the end, but as Cam pointed out to me this is actually a very well known poem by Dylan Thomas called predictably enough "Do not go gentle into that Good Night." I suppose the hope of having stumbled across a mysterious and anonymous poem was enough to quell my instinct to type the words into Google. If only I had taken AP English, perhaps I would not be such an uncultured swine....