Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory,-- Odors, 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FRAILTY AND HURTFULNESS OF BEAUTY by HENRY HOWARD SONNET: 15. TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX by JOHN MILTON MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 2 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI LAUS VENERIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE DIRGE AND HYMENAL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE ROAD TO APPENZELL by HENRY GLASSFORD BELL |