I’m inclined to think you are right—there was not much sense in it;
But there was no time to think, the thing was done in a minute.
You had not gone very far in: you had fainted where you were found;
You’re the sort of fellow that likes to drown with his toe on the ground.
However, you turn upon me and my creed with all sorts of abuse;
As if any preaching of mine could possibly be of use
To a man who refused to see what sort of a world he had got
To live in and make the best of, whether he liked it or not.
I am not sure what you mean: you seem to mean to say
That believing in hell you were happy; but that one unfortunate day