The Cry of the Banshee

Tomorrow when you wake you will be dead.

"You stumble in a sober stupor, blink
Away the blinding of the moon, address
The world with practiced courtesy, and think
Yourself a well-adjusted wight. I’ll bless
You now with death before the cock doth crow.
For you have ne’er known love, nor ever slept
A night beneath the stars, nor running leapt
Across a river bed, nor conference held
With forests in the gloom, nor broke the rule
Of Kings upon your soul divine, nor yelled
From mountain peaks, nor called yourself a fool.
What life is this that you should live each day
As if tomorrow’s script was writ and read.
Tomorrow’s script is ashes blown away,
Tomorrow when you wake you will be dead."