618. Music, when Soft Voices die

Percy Bysshe Shelley. 1792-1822

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.

The Oxford Book of English Verse, HTML edition