Classic Poem

Four pounds' weight of silver ten winters ago
You sent as my present, I'ld have you to know.
Next year I hoped more, or at least just the same,
But to my disgust 'twas but two pounds that came.
In the third and fourth years your gift still smaller grew,
In the fifth 'twas one pound, and most common stuff too.
The sixth dropped to a platter, eight ounces I found;
And then came a cup that weighed just half a pound.
The eighth brought a ladle, two ounces or less,
The ninth a thin tea-spoon, I blush to confess.
You can't lower go in this tenth year, it's plain:
So let's, if you please, start at four pounds again.