Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

sation to me!
“The melancholy days are come
“The saddest of the year –“
The saddest perhaps but the happiest. Who does not like to be melancholy once awhile, especially when nature is the cause? I like to tramp thru the dry leaves and twigs and hear the mournful wind sob through the sleeping branches. And what can equal the autumnal sunsets, unless perhaps the winter sunrises just before spring! Just as we were turning around to come home after aimlessly wandering here and there, the sun shone forth for his last time, to the dull gray cloud banks, which took on a rosy tinge. A cool wind, it seemed to come thru the open space in the clouds, were roared thru the bowing trees and fanned back our hair from our flushed faces. The sun disappeared, and bright yellow rays glanced off the breaking clouds.
Slowly we winded our way homeward, laughing, talking in trying to outdo each other in throwing our “spears”
at targets and the furthest distance.
“What are we going to do to-night?” I asked as we came to Bill’s home.
“Let’s go downtown” he suggested.