Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

at the moon.

     The eastern sky is speckled with small dingy white clouds, to which the brilliant sliver white of the moon, with its soft glow of yellow, is a splendid contrast. Perhaps there is nothing quite like the effect of the moons light, as it falls slantingly thru the dark soft trees to the ground.

                   Friday August 12, 1913

Somewhere in this diary I wrote the little verse:

     Evening red and morning grey

     Starts the traveler on his way

     But evening grey and morning red

     Brings down rain upon his head.

It has always proven infallible - and well it is yet. But when down came this morning I thought that it was going to fail for once. Last evenings red was followed, of course by this mornings grey. But it was not the kind of grey that proceeds a rapid clearing up. No – and