*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.
wie schön das ist.
*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.
😍