An Irish Airman Forsees his Death

I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere amoung the clouds above;

Those that I fight I do not hate,

Those I guard I do not love;

My country is Kiltartan Cross

My countrymen is 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 impluse 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.