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Edit box size: ⇓ More rows Reset to default size ⇒ More columns "Music, When Soft Voices Die" by Percy Bysshe Shelley Music, when soft voices sie, 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 beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts when thou are gone, Love itself shall slumber on. This is a minor edit.
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