Poetry: Shelley – Music, When Soft Voices Die

Music, 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 heaped for the belovèd's bed;And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,Love itself shall slumber on. Considered a poetic fragment, I find these two verses by Shelley complete in their simplicity. Unlike …

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Poetry: Moore – ‘Tis the Last Rose of Summer

In the waiting and holding out in this bleak world, we find that we have hope and that we are not alone.