One day a few years back when I was staying with my grandmother, we were talking about poems and she pulled out a newspaper clipping of this poem, telling me it was one of her favorites. I went to bed that night and memorized it.
The Coin
by Sara Teasdale
Into my heart's treasury
I slipped a coin
That time cannot take
Nor a thief purloin,--
Oh better than the minting
of a gold-crowned king
Is the safe-kept memory
of a lovely thing.
"not what we say about our blessings, but how we use them, is the true measure of our thanksgiving" -w.t. purkiser
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