Richard Sanders . 07527771914
  • Video Guide
​Music, when soft voice 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 beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
 
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792 – 1822)
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Video Guide