Sara Teasdale’s speaker claims a different kind of wealth. She has no money, but her thoughts—especially memories of a beloved—are enough. She turns those thoughts into “golden coins / Stamped in the mint of memory,” an image of memory as the place where love is made precious and permanent.
But the point is not just having such wealth; it is using it. These riches cannot be hoarded. The speaker will “spend them all in song,” giving her private feelings away through poetry. Otherwise, like unused gold, they would be lost when she dies. By putting them into words while she still lives, she leaves them on this side of death—in the world of the living—where they can outlast her and achieve a kind of immortality. The mood is quiet and certain, not sad or boasting, but calmly devoted, as if love and art are the only wealth that truly lasts.