Music, when soft voice die

…from the quills of the dead white poets

 

 Percy Bysse Shelley (1792 -1822)

 

 Music, when soft voice die,

 Vibrates in the memory –

 Odours, when sweet violets sicken,

 Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,

 Are heap’d for the beloved’s bed;

 And so thy thoughts, when thou are gone,

 Love itself shall slumber on.

About Avadoro Worden

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