Classic Poem

My wife and I, in one romantic cot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot,
High as the gods upon Olympus dwell,
Pleased with the things we have, and pleased as well
To wait in hope for those which we have not.

She vows in ardour for a horse to trot;
I pledge my votive powers upon a yacht;
Which shall be first remembered, who can tell,—
My wife or I?

Harvests of flowers o'er all our garden-plot,
She dreams; and I to enrich a darker spot,—
My unprovided cellar; both to swell
Our narrow cottage huge as a hotel,
That portly friends may come and share our lot—
My wife and I.