poems
To-------
Music,when a soft voice die vibrates in the memory.
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,live with the sense the quickens.
Rose leaves,when the rose is dead are heap'd for the beloved's bed and so thy thoughts when that are gone love itself shwll slumber on
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,live with the sense the quickens.
Rose leaves,when the rose is dead are heap'd for the beloved's bed and so thy thoughts when that are gone love itself shwll slumber on
