June 9. 2021
8:57 AM
Memorial Day and an upcoming trip to Maine brought to mind one of my favorite poem:
by Edna St. Vincent Millay --1892-1950
The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
The golden brooch my mother wore
She left behind for me to wear;
I have no thing I treasure more:
Yet, it is something I could spare.
Oh, if instead she’d left to me
The thing she took into the grave!—
That courage like a rock, which she
Has no more need of, and I have.