Saturday, April 03, 2010
classic poem #10
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 heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
Posted by Violet N. at 5:00 AM
Labels: classic poetry, death, National Poetry Month
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