It’s hard to watch a man fight a war he doesn’t believe in. It feels like a waste.
But in this elegy, Yeats suggests it might actually be the only way to be free. The airman isn't driven by hate for the enemy or love for his country. He's driven by something much simpler: the fun of flying.
He's balanced his life, the past and the future, and decided none of it matters as much as this one specific "impulse of delight." Most of us drift through life on momentum, doing what we're told. This guy is doing exactly what he wants, even if it kills him.
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
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.
DN-0071801, Chicago Daily News negatives collection, Chicago History Museum