My favourite poem, and the only problem I know off by-heart is An Irish Airman Forsees His Death, by WB Yeats. I posted it last year. It has been my favourite poem since I was in my early teens, in the ATC, and I first heard a version of it watching Memphis Belle.

An Irish Airman Forsees His Death

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above.
Those I fight, I do not hate;
Those 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 lowly 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.