Music, When Soft Voices Die

Portrait of the Contessa Rosa Arconati - Artist Unidentified

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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.