Love Poems - 1800s:
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 heapīd for the belovedīs bed;
And so thy thoughts when thou are gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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