Poem on Macbeth by William Shakespeare

Witch do brew, curse do rue.
A Thane arises, amidst war and crisis.
The breath of life, the blood of Christ.
Depart from Earth, to return to curse.
A ghost of wind, the bells ring.
The king is dead, knifed in bed.
Blood on hands, Queen be damned.
Macbeth does reap, he doth kill sleep.
Kingdom fall, crows do caw.
Forest grow, Macbeth meets foe.