Classic Poem

Friend , if for larger wealth I seem to pine,
It is not as the vulgar herd desire it;
They long that Rheims may toil to give them wine,
And slave-drive half a county to acquire it;
They hunt for ormolu and Adams fine
Or gilded " Empire" stuff, — I don't admire it —
And quaff from crystals of the rarest sort
Dark draughts of richest Burgundy or Port.

The liveried menial lies beneath my ban,
I seek no crowd of fools to bow before me,
Let others keep the pampered serving-man,
To see a six-foot flunkey standing o'er me,
To drive a four-in-hand, or spick-and-span
To ride the Row — these things would simply bore me.
What do I want? (may heaven upon me frown
If this is false.) — To beautify the town.