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Percy Bysshe Shelley – Music, When Soft Voices Die

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Percy Bysshe Shelley – Music, When Soft Voices Die

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory —
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap’d for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts when thou are gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

Percy Bysshe Shelley


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