Quote - Music, when soft voices diemusic, 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 heapd for the belovèds bed; and so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Help
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Music, When Soft Voices DieMusic, 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.
