Canto XXXIV
My own dim life should teach me this,That life shall live for evermore,Else earth is darkness at the core,And dust and ashes all that is;
This round of green, this orb of flame,Fantastic beauty; such as lurksIn some wild Poet, when he worksWithout a conscience or an aim.
What then were God to such as I?’Twere hardly worth my while to chooseOf things all mortal, or to useA little patience ere I die;
’Twere best at once to sink to peace,Like birds the charming serpent draws,To drop head-foremost in the jawsOf vacant darkness and to cease.