samedi 9 novembre 2019

Music, when Soft Voices die

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

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