| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1057. Like to a Coin |
| | | By Arlo Bates |
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| LIKE to a coin, passing from hand to hand, | |
| Are common memories, and day by day | |
| The sharpness of their impress wears away. | |
| But love’s remembrances unspoiled with-stand | |
| The touch of time, as in an antique land | 5 |
| Where some proud town old centuries did slay, | |
| Intaglios buried lie, still in decay | |
| Perfect and precious spite of grinding sand. | |
| What fame or joy or sorrow has been ours, | |
| What we have hoped or feared, we may forget. | 10 |
| The clearness of all memory time deflours, | |
| Save that of love alone, persistent yet | |
| Though sure oblivion all things else devours, | |
| Its tracings firm as when they first were set. | |
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