Classic Poem

A pious youth approaching where
His stepdame's body lay,
Officious crown'd her statue there
With flow'rets fresh and gay.

Nor thought his father's wife, when dead,
Her malice could retain;
The statue thunder'd on his head
And fix'd him to the plain.

Ye foster-sons avoid this doom
Nor hang a flow'ry wreath
Around an envious stepdame's tomb,
Lest ye too sink in death.