Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

 brings to the hearer’s mind the remembrance of some beautiful aspect of nature, some reminder of a happy event, or is in some way vitally related to the life of the hearer, is music of the divinest sort. Thus a shrieking freight whistle becomes music, the sound of tonneaus being hammered by sweaty Italians & Slavs, the cannon-like booms of die-presses, dropping, or the rattle of wagons on pavements. And what is it perhaps that makes music of the cicada’s song? When hearing them, one sees in