Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, May, 1920

                                                               A May Noon –

The hot sun beats down on the startling emerald & yellow green trees – there is the far off sound of whistles. The talking machines commenced to play rag-time at a great distance; in different keys they produced a weird oriental effect that seems to fit the mood of the day, and to recall strange buildings & houses along a hot dusty road facing the sun,

                                                           A May evening –

The sharp fresh greenness of new leaves – Cold pure whiteness of fruit blossoms –

There is the rasping sounds of {?} in new dug gardens –

The grass bristles and is cool – a train whistles recalls lonely wild stretches to the west – Then comes the church bell and an inexpressibly sad mournful sound, recalling lonely feelings of childhood and black depths under trees by old forsaken churches –

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, May 1920