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Read more poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley: Percy Bysshe Shelley Poems at Poetry X.

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.

Added: 20 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 12 Feb 2012 10:57 AM | Viewed: 7992 times

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