Emilia. There is a very beautiful poem by Shelley:
To Emilia V -
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 beloved's bed -
And so they thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on ...