An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

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An Irish Airman Foresees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above
Those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love
My country is Kiltartan Cross, my countrymen Kiltartan's poor
No likely end could bring them loss or leave them happier than before
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, nor public men, nor cheering crowds
A lonely impulse of delight drove to this tumult in the clouds
I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath
A waste of breath the years behind in balance with this life, this death
A waste of breath the years behind in balance with this life, this death

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