Music, when soft voices die Sad Poem By Percy Bysshe Shelley {mosgoogle} Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when

On A Dead Violet Percy Bysshe Shelley {mosgoogle} The odor from the flower is gone Which like thy kisses breathed on me; The color from the flower

Bereavement Percy Bysshe Shelley {mosgoogle} How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner As he bends in still grief o’er the hallowed

I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright. I arise from

Love’s Philosophy  Percy Bysshe Shelley The fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean; The winds of heaven mix