sunset over Belfast Lough, Northern Ireland
An Irish Airman
Foresees his Death
by W.B. Yeats
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. |
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