The insufferable globe. “I had not said,”
He mumbled, “Never said I’d taste the cup.
What, is it this you give me? Must I sup?
Oh lies, all lies.... Why did you kill the lark?
Guide me the cup to lip ... it is so dark.”
CANTO VII
1
The host had trimmed his lamp. The downy moth
Came from the garden. Where the lamplight shed
Its circle of smooth white upon the cloth,