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...APPARENT FAILURE by ROBERT BROWNING THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE by GEORGE DARLEY LITTLE BROWN BABY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EACH AND [OR, IN] ALL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE MOTHER WATCH by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST THE HAYSTACK IN THE FLOODS by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) AH, HAD I SEEN THEE SOONER! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE LAST MAN: ANTICIPATION OF EVIL TIDINGS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |