Do not climb lightly into that good mist,

Do not climb lightly into that good mist,
drab luck should grow and rave at end of day;
howl, howl against the diying of the light.
Though wise fools at their end know fear is fair,
Because their yields had convinced no love they
Do not climb lightly into that good mist,
good fools, the best wave by, crying how strong
Their lousy hopes might have rose in a green heath,
howl, howl against the diying of the light.
hard fools who won and faced the earth in play,
And learn, too hard, they faced it on its way,
Do not climb lightly into that good mist,
mean fools, in fear, who reap with racking thought
cracked hearts could flow like rivers and be real,
howl, howl against the diying of the light.
And you, my aunt, there on the banal boat,
curse, aid, me now with your fierce light, I pray.
Do not climb lightly into that good mist,
howl, howl against the diying of the light.

Crunch!