Music, When Soft Voices Die by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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 belovèd’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Poem Attribution © Percy Bysshe Shelley, Music, When Soft Voices Die
Source Attribution https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45132/music-when-soft-voices-die-to-
Painting Attribution © Silja Ritter, Forgive Me, 2017
Source Attribution https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Forgive-me/1210853/4858335/view
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