A May evening –
The sharp fresh greenness of new leaves – Cold pure whiteness of fruit blossoms –
    There is the rasping sounds of {?} in new dug gardens –
    The grass bristles and is cool – a train whistles recalls lonely wild stretches to the west – Then comes the church bell and an inexpressibly sad mournful sound, recalling lonely feelings of childhood and black depths under trees by old forsaken churches –