Classic Poem

Death ! thou such a one hast smit,
Any stone can cover it;
'Twas an envy more than sin,
If he had not been a twin,
To have kill'd him, when his herse
Hardly could contain a verse.
Two fair sisters, sweet and young,
Minded as a prophet's tongue,
Thou hadst kill'd, and since with thee
Goodness had no amity:
Nor could tears of parents save
So much sweetness from the grave;
Sickness seem'd so small to fit him,
That thou should'st not see to hit him;
And thou canst not truly say,
If he be dead or flown away.