Thomas Lovell Beddoes

Person · Open Library

Born

1803-06-30

Died

1849-01-26

Works

54

via Open Library + Wikidata

Music · MusicBrainz

Type

Person

Gender

Male

Origin

United Kingdom

Active from

1803-06-30

Active to

1849-01-26

via MusicBrainz · CC0

Listeners · Last.fm

Listeners

15

Total plays

17

<a href="https://www.last.fm/music/Thomas+Lovell+Beddoes">Read more on Last.fm</a>

via Last.fm · Thomas Lovell Beddoes

Recent publications · Crossref

5 total works indexed

1. Analysis of Relative Gene Expression Data Using Real-Time Quantitative PCR and the 2−ΔΔCT Method

   · 2001 · cited 160,867x

2. The PRISMA 2020 statement: an updated guideline for reporting systematic reviews

   · 2021 · cited 77,608x

3. U-Net: Convolutional Networks for Biomedical Image Segmentation

   · 2015 · cited 57,614x

4. STAR: ultrafast universal RNA-seq aligner

   · 2012 · cited 49,745x

5. UCSF Chimera—A visualization system for exploratory research and analysis

   · 2004 · cited 43,780x

via Crossref · CC0

Quotes

• “A cypress-bough, and a rose-wreath sweet,A wedding-robe, and a winding-sheet,A bridal bed and a bier.Thine be the kisses, maid,And smiling Love’s alarms;And thou, pale youth, be laidIn the grave’s cold arms.Each in his own charms,Death and Hymen both are here;So up with scythe and torch,And to the old church porch,While all the bells ring clear:And rosy, rosy the bed shall bloom,And earthy, earthy heap up the tomb.”
• “The swallow leaves her nest,The soul my weary breast;But therefore let the rain&nbsp;&nbsp;On my graveFall pure; for why complain?Since both will come again&nbsp;&nbsp;O’er the wave.The wind dead leaves and snowDoth hurry to and fro;And, once, a day shall break&nbsp;&nbsp;O’er the wave,When a storm of ghosts shall shakeThe dead, until they wake&nbsp;&nbsp;In the grave.”
• “I’ll take that fainting roseOut of his breast; perhaps some sigh of hisLives in the gyre of its kiss-coloured leaves.O pretty rose, hast thou thy flowery passions?Then put thyself into a scented rage,And breathe on me some poisonous revenge.For it was I, thou languid, silken blush,Who orphaned thy green family of thee,In their closed infancy: therefore receiveMy life, and spread it on thy shrunken petals,And give to me thy pink, reclining death.”
• “Is it not sweet to die? for, what is death,But sighing that we ne’er may sigh again,Getting a length beyond our tedious selves;But trampling the last tear from poisonous sorrow,Spilling our woes, crushing our frozen hopes,And passing like an incense out of man?Then, if the body felt, what were its sense,Turning to daisies gently in the grave,If not the soul’s most delicate delightWhen it does filtrate, through the pores of thought,In love and the enamelled flowers of song?”
• “Why, Rome was naked once, a bastard smudge,Tumbled on straw, the denfellow of whelps,Fattened on roots, and, when a-thirst for milk,He crept beneath and drank the swagging udderOf Tyber’s brave she-wolf; and Heaven’s JudeaWas folded in a pannier.”
• “&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A lakeIs a river curled and asleep like a snake.”

via Wikiquote · CC BY-SA

Wikidata facts

Image

Thomas Lovell Beddoes 1.jpg

via Wikidata · CC0