Swamp

Up, and to the office, where all the morning, expecting every houre more newes of the fleete and the issue of yesterday’s fight, but nothing come. At noon, though I should have dined with my Lord Mayor and Aldermen at an entertainment of Commissioner Taylor’s, yet it being a time of expectation of the successe of the fleete, I did not go, but dined at home, and after dinner by water down to Deptford (and Woolwich, where I had not been since I lodged there, and methinks the place has grown natural to me), and thence down to Longreach, calling on all the ships in the way, seeing their condition for sayling, and what they want. Home about 11 of the clock, and so eat a bit and to bed, having received no manner of newes this day, but of The Rainbow’s being put in from the fleete, maimed as the other ships are, and some say that Sir W. Clerke is dead of his leg being cut off.

alder
at the water

down where I had not been
since the place has grown natural

a bit of rainbow
maimed as a dead leg


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 5 June 1666.

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