Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
305
[5]
This
is
from
a
letter
written
by
the
dying
Keats
in
Naples
to
his
friend
Brown.
[6]
Contrast
with
it
Wordsworth
rotting
at
Rydal
Mount
or
Swinburne
at
Putney.
1917
January
1.
The
New
Year
came
in
like
a
thief
in
the
night--noiselessly;
no
bells,
no
syrens,
no
songs
by
order
of
the
Government.
Nothing
could
have
been
more
appropriate
than
a
burglarious
entry
like
this--seeing
what
the
year
has
come
to
filch
from
us
all
in
the
next
12
months.
January
20.
I
am
over
6
feet
high
and
as
thin
as
a
skeleton;
every
bone
in
my
body,
even
the
neck
vertebrae,
creak
at
odd
intervals
when
I
move.
So
that
I
am
not
only
a
skeleton
but
a
badly
articulated
one
to
boot.
If
to
this
is
coupled
the
fact
of
the
creeping
paralysis,
you
have
the
complete
horror.
Even
as
I
sit
and
write,
millions
of
bacteria
are
gnawing
away
my
precious
spinal
cord,
and
if
you
put
your
ear
to
my
back
the
sound
of
the
gnawing
I
dare
say
could
be
heard.
The
other
day
a
man
came
and
set
up
a
post
in
the
garden
for
the
clothes'
line.
As
soon
as
I
saw
the
post
I
said
"gibbet"--it
looks
exactly
like
one,
and
I,
for
sure,
must
be
the
malefactor.
Last
night
while
E----
was
nursing
the
baby
I
most
delightfully
remarked:
"What
a
little
parasite--why
you
are
Cleopatra
affixing
the
aspic--'Tarry,
good
lady,
the
bright
day
is
done,
and
we
are
for
the
dark.'"
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
