manuscript draft of a poem on worn, lined paper with three hole punch on left side
William Butler Yeats (1865–1939) “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death” manuscript draft 1918 Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection of English and American Literature

“An Irish Airman Forsees His Death”

Transcript below

Hear Declan Kiely read W.B. Yeats’s poem “An Irish Airman Foresees His Death”

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Run time one minute

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 man, 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.

End of Transcript

Read by Declan Kiely

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