by A. E. Housman
Her strong enchantments failing, Her towers of fear in wreck, Her limbecks dried of poisons And the knife at her neck, The Queen of air and darkness Begins to shrill and cry, O young man, O my slayer, To-morrow you shall die. O Queen of air and darkness, I think tis truth you say, And I shall die to-morrow; But you will die to-day.