A little jug of wine
     And glasses for two:
Yours, of course, and mine,
     Just for me and you.

Glazed breakable clay
     And full to the spout
On the exciting day
     When we shared it out.

The wine went overboard
     At every tilt
Of the jug we so eagerly poured
     Reckless of whether it spilled.

Whenever we lifted the jug
     We could not decide
How much of its weight and glug
     There might be left inside.

Though all that we’ve attempted
     Has come to pass
And the jug nearly emptied
     There’s still wine in the glass.