Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

[inscription reads] " seem to have developed for the sunset. / One may rationally describe noonday. A sunset seems to call for heroic poetry, something far out of the ordinary - / The sun became a dull yellow glow - this is winter a soft dissipated glow above a white landscape - the whisps were rain-bowed; the yellow glow turned crimson; was gone; the color lingered. The afterglow started in the south a faint pink that abruptly roared in to fiery salmon all over the green sky; the "