Shakes4Supes


My love for all things TV, is only just surpassed by my love for Literature. In this blog, I strive to bring to together the best of both worlds.

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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.

- P. B. 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.

- P. B. Shelley

Tagged: p b shelleypoemmusiclove

  1. shakes4supes posted this