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The poems posthumous and collected of Thomas Lovell Beddoes

Beddoes, Thomas Lovell (1803-1849)

collapse sectionI. 
VOL. I.
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THE SECOND BROTHER;
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TORRISMOND;
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DRAMATIC SCENES AND FRAGMENTS.
 I. 
I. ERMINIA ABBANDONATA.
 II. 
II. AN APOTHEOSIS.
 III. 
III. The Israelite amid Philistines.
 IV. 
IV. Lovers' Identity.
 V. 
V. Prison Thoughts.
 VI. 
VI. Man's petty Universe contrasted with the True.
 VII. 
VII. Recognition.
 VIII. 
VIII. Reception of Evil Tidings.
 IX. 
IX. A Ruffian.
 X. 
X. Recollection of Early Life.
 XI. 
XI. A Crocodile.
 XII. 
XII. “Bona de Mortuis.”
 XIII. 
XIII. Rosily dying.
 XIV. 
XIV. Speaker's Meaning dimly descried.
 XV. 
XV. Anticipation of Evil Tidings.
 XVI. 
XVI. Midnight Hymn.
 XVII. 
XVII. Concealed Joy.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. Life a Glass Window.
 XIX. 
XIX. A Dream.
 XX. 
XX. Metaphor of Rain.
 XXI. 
XXI. Meditation.
 XXII. 
XXII. Sweet to Die.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. Extreme Acclivity.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. Rain.
 XXV. 
XXV. Life's Uncertainty.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. Kisses.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. Subterranean City.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. Dream of Dying.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. Insignificance of the World.
 XXX. 
XXX. Sleeper's Countenance contemplated.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. A beautiful Night.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. Humble Beginnings.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. A Countenance foreboding Evil.
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. A lofty Mind.
 XXXV. 
XXXV. Sorrow.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI. Sad and cheerful Songs contrasted.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII. A subterranean City.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII. Man's anxious, but ineffectual, Guard against Death.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX. A Day of surpassing Beauty.
 XL. 
XL. The slight and degenerate Nature of Man.
 XLI. 
XLI. A Night-Scene.
 XLII. 
XLII. Dirge.
 XLIII. 
XLIII. Mourners consoled.
 XLIV. 
XLIV. A great Sacrifice self-compensated.
 XLV. 
XLV. “Love is wiser than Ambition.”
 XLVI. 
XLVI. The Murderer's haunted Couch.
 XLVII. 
XLVII. Human Life: its value.
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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
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POETIC FRAGMENTS.
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VOL. II.

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XIV. Speaker's Meaning dimly descried.

I know not whether
I see your meaning: if I do, it lies
Upon the wordy wavelets of your voice,
Dim as an evening shadow in a brook,
When the least moon has silver on't no larger
Than the pure white of Hebe's pinkish nail.
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