Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

He flew in a complete circle seeking to baffle me; following him with my eye I saw him alight in a field. His breast being towards me, I detected even at that distance, the black ring around his throat and knew him to be indeed a quail.(HT)I paused a minute to sit down under a tree on Brooks Lawn to listen to the bird-chorus. Here it was predominated by the chipping sparrow who sang unceasingly. Once a cat-bird “meowed” and at times; a thrasher disported his song from a perch to the west of me. I recognized the orioles notes the most in his melody. That part of the Lawn fronting High St. has been converted into a field of rye which, standing inches above my head, was beautiful to look upon.(HT)This is the most wonderful time of the year – being the present! (HT)Crossing the First Pasture-field, attention must be called to the beauty of the mist-blued trees standing motionless as tho petrified with