9 A.M.――Bother the Jubilee! What in the name of fortune, can one do with such a rubbishing subject? But here’s _Macmillan_ waiting, and I haven’t done a single line yet. Must get something put on to paper, if only to quiet him. But how on earth to begin! Get in “fifty” somehow. Want fifty somethings that come but once a year. Christmas? Good. That suggests Clown. I have it. _Fifty times the Clown has grinned and tumbled._ No. That won’t do. It’s too shoppy, stagey. Has a _soupçon_ of the _Promise of May_ about it. Wants something wider Ha! The Row, suggesting the Season, of course. _Fifty times the Row has filled and emptied._ No. Don’t like it. Reads as if I was talking of a cistern. Too heavy. Try something lighter. Pastry? Feathers? Flowers? Ha! _that’s_ it. Flowers, of course. Here, I’ve got it! _Fifty times the Rose has flowered and faded._ Anyhow, _that_’ll do to go off with. Let’s see. I want fifty something elses to follow it up with. What shall it be? Cartloads? Handfuls? Armfuls? Autumns? Harvests? Good again. Not that there’s any precise connection between them; but one must stick down something, How’ll this do? _Fifty times the golden harvest fallen._ Yes, that reads all right. Is there any other way of putting “fifty?” Yes, “twice twenty-five.” But that won’t come in. Then there’s “four times twelve and a half.” No; that won’t do. Enough “fifty.” _Now_ we want some allusion to Her Majesty. Must get in a “since.” I have it, “Since our Queen assumed,” Capital. Here you are! _Since our Queen assumed the globe, the sceptre._ Come; that’s a beginning anyhow. Three lines! But they’ve quite dried me up. Besides, I can’t go on in blank verse like this. Don’t feel up to it. Must try another metre. What metre. And then what on earth am I to say in it? I haven’t had such a job as this for a long time. Could weep over it. A precious Ode I shall make of it. For though I, know not anything, Yet must I not my lot upbraid; Since as the Laureate I am paid, And, being paid, am bound to sing. But, “a glass of sherry, will make me merry.” I’ll try one.! 6 P.M.――Confound the Jubilee Ode! Have now been at it all day, and am floundering worse than ever. Have got in something about illuminations, sanitary improvements, subscribing to a Hospital and Penny dinners, and given a kind of back-hander to George the Third, but who, on earth, I refer to as the “Patriot Architect,” and what I mean by asking him to _Shape a stately memorial_, _Make it regularly――no, “regally”――gorgeous_, _Some Imperial Institute_, I don’t know. But if I arrange it in parallel lines it will look like poetry, and that’ll be near enough. Feel I’m making a horrible hash of it. Might go for a turn on my bicycle. May clear my head. Might try it. Will. * * * * *