Rainy, cloudy, gleamy.

All excursion=plans are absurd. S. Salvador has not been visible for days. The weather is just like November ― but warmer.

Worked at Grenfell’s Philæ ― not very well. Nervous, & irritated.

X3

By 2.30, I had worked every bit of the colour out of the painting, & apparently spoiled all my work: ― certainly this mestiere civile annoys me more & more, & I am just now miserable enough, only I won’t give way: piuttosto I’ll begin another Philæ.

At 2 the weather cleared a bit: & the Gulls sat on the calmer sea. ― Then I thought I would dine on cold mutton: having first attempted a translation of AT’s Will1 ―― Θέλημα. ― O bother.

After witch ― sate reading R. Burtons “City of the Saints,” ― & walking up & down till 6.30. A beautiful sunset ―but with clouds.

At 7.30 ― supper ― absurd ― a 2nd dinner ― 0f eggs & rice.

And penned out till 10. ―

Queer day. Queer life!

[Transcribed by Marco Graziosi from Houghton Library, Harvard University, MS Eng. 797.3.]

  1. Published in Maud, and Other Poems (1855). [↩]