08 April 2011

Music when soft voices die...doodles, date-unknown.

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 belovèd's bed; 
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, 
Love itself shall slumber on.

Percy Bysshe Shelley. 1792–1822

No comments:

Post a Comment