An Irish Airman Foresees His Death by Wm. Butler 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 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.
2 comments:
Here Here.
Can someone remind me of the exact number of WMDs we found there? I forget. Although I believe that it may have been a rather round number.
The roundest number of them all in fact.
That picture makes me sad because I am afraid that little girl will be raped by one of those men fighting this crazy war.
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