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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
28
In
another
direction
I
could
see
a
field
full
of
luscious,
tall,
green
grass.
Every
stalk
was
so
full
of
sap
that
had
I
cut
one
I
am
sure
it
would
have
bled
great
green
drops.
In
the
field
some
lambs
were
sleeping;
one
woke
up
and
looked
at
me
with
the
back
of
its
head
to
the
low
sun,
which
shone
through
its
two
small
ears
and
gave
them
a
transparent
pink
appearance.
No
sooner
am
I
rebaptized
in
the
sun
than
I
have
to
be
turning
home
again.
No
sooner
do
"the
sudden
lilies
push
between
the
loosening
fibres
of
the
heart"
than
I
am
whisked
back
into
the
old
groove--the
daily
round.
If
only
I
had
more
time!--more
time
in
which
to
think,
to
love,
to
observe,
to
frame
my
disposition,
to
direct
as
far
as
in
me
lies
the
development
and
unfolding
of
my
character,
if
only
I
could
direct
all
my
energies
to
the
great
and
difficult
profession
of
life,
of
being
man
instead
of
trifling
with
one
profession
that
bores
me
and
dabbling
in
another.
June
5.
On
Lundy
Island
Frankie
is
blowing
Seagulls'
eggs
in
the
scullery.
His
father,
after
a
day's
work
at
the
farm,
is
at
his
supper
very
hungry,
yet
immensely
interested,
and
calls
out
occasionally,--
"'Ow
you're
getting
on,
Foreman?"
"All
right,
Capt.,"
says
Frankie
affectionately,
and
the
unpleasant
asthmatic,
wheezy
noise
of
the
egg-blowing
goes
on....
There
are
three
dogs
asleep
under
the
kitchen
table;
all
three
belong
to
different
owners
and
neither
one
to
A----.
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