 | The poems posthumous and collected of Thomas Lovell Beddoes |  |
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XXI. Meditation.
The bitter pastAnd the untasted future I mix up,
Making the present a dream-figured bowl
For the black poison, which is caked and moulded,
By the inside of the enchasing thoughts,
Even as I taste it.
| The poems posthumous and collected of Thomas Lovell Beddoes | |