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Music, When Soft Voices Die

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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 heap'd for the beloved's bed;

And so thy thoughts ,when thou art gone,

Love itself shall slumber on.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

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