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.