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An Irish Airman Forsees His Death April 7, 2007

Posted by Rambling Man in Poetry & Humor.
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An Irish Airman Forsees 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 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.

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Comments»

1. Dario Sanchez - April 11, 2007

That poem was one of my for my first Leaving Cert.

I wish he had sailed to Byzantium, the bastard, Yeats’ poems were so multi-layered. Give me Eliot or Bishop any day!


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