when thou art gone

Here's a favourite Shelley poem, as taken from the pictured 2003 compilation:


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 thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on ...

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Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 - 1822)

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