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 heap’d for the belovèd’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you Georgia.
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Un gand bun pentru o noapte binecuvantata! 🙂 ❤ * • ♫ ❤ ♫ ❤ ♫ • * ❤



A good thought for a blessed night!
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Thank you Ileana. I just found your comment in the spam filter.
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