Poem by William Butler Yeats

An Irish Airman Forsees 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 county 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. 

1. The Dedication to a Book of Stories Selected from the Irish Novelists
2. To Ireland in the Coming Times
3. The Lamentation of the Old Pensioner
4. The Pity of Love
5. The Old Men Admiring Themselves in the Water

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