an irish airman foresees his death - yeats 1918

[fallen]

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.