🚀 go-pugleaf

I keep thinking of two poems.  William Wordsworth's "We are Seven"
and the one below.  I'm not sure if the WW poem is really appropriate,
perhaps the numeric coincidence gets to me.

"An Irish Airman Foresees His Death"
	William 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.

ucbvax!brahms!weemba	Matthew P Wiener/UCB Math Dept/Berkeley CA 94720