Poem for the day

To Emilia V -

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 they thoughts, when thou art ne,
Love itself shall slumber on ...

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822)

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