Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

[inscription reads] commences a might roar which becomes irristable (sic) and so I climb up & sit down on the emerald graves to dream. The leaves - how they fly up & away over the hill. How the wind roars in my ears - the leaves, clinkle noisily - the glossy grass is sun-rippled - gloss rippled grass - a mourning cloak - I let it perch on my finger & up & away it flies! Taking my consciousness with it! The warm sunshine streaming over the earth! Most trees are naked - Oaks chestnuts & willows