Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

I feel no depression from it. I saw the morning and knew the evening was coming.Sun sets in dense mists which is composed of a myriad colors, like an irridiscent moths wing, thru which it made a soft yellow glow. Later a vagrant air current blowing upwards from the sun, spun the mists into long whisps, and catching some. of the sun’s red, wove it into them.Then there is the girl, bred in ignorance, who falls a pray to white slavery, and thru her own & mans lust