Classic Poem

I caught the glint of the moon on a levelled barrel
From the tail of my eye;
And as I swung round on my heel the hour seemed striking
For me to die:

But the gun must have burst in the hands of the clumsy beggar —
For he fell dead
As the shot rang out; and I found him there in the spinney,
With shattered head:

And the heart was still, that a second since was furious
With death for me;
While again in my side my heart, that had stopped a moment,
Beat merrily.

And then, in my marrowbones, as I stood beside him,
I felt death's chill;
And I heard a ghostly voice at my shoulder whisper —
Next time, I kill!