Classic Poem

Better music ne'er was known,
Than a choir of hearts in one.
Let each other that hath been
Troubled with the gall or spleen,
Learn of us to keep his brow
Smooth and plain as ours are now.
Sing though before the hour of dying
He shall rise, and then be crying,
Heyho! 'Tis naught but mirth
That keeps the body from the earth.