Eng280/Cintrón-3
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas
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 men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked 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 danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men 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.
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Grave men, 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 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.
A rondeau (plural rondeaux) is a French form with 15 lines. It makes use of refrains, repeated
according to a certain stylized pattern. It was customarily regarded as a challenge to arrange for these
refrains to contribute to the meaning of the poem in as succinct and poignant a manner as possible. The
rondeau consists of thirteen lines of eight syllables, plus two refrains (which are half lines, each of four
syllables), employing, altogether, only three rhymes. It has three stanzas and its rhyme scheme is as
follows: (1) A A B B A (2) A A B with refrain: C (3) A A B B A with concluding refrain C. The refrain
must be identical with the beginning of the first line.
We Wear the Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar
We wear the mask that grins and lies, (A)
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— (A)
This debt we pay to human guile; (B)
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile, (B)
And mouth with myriad subtleties. (A)
Why should the world be over-wise, (A)
In counting all our tears and sighs? (A)
Nay, let them only see us, while (B)
We wear the mask. (C)
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries (A)
To thee from tortured souls arise. (A)
We sing, but oh the clay is vile (B)
Beneath our feet, and long the mile; (B)
But let the world dream otherwise, (A)