Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

he tried to say something but his voice choked – my first impulse was to try to comfort him, & then I thought it would be better to ignore his emotion. He finally clasped my hand & I left.Feb. 10, 1922; It is a Vorfrühling morning – and its vorfrühling character colors my imagination. The city is full of all the unintelligible morning sounds, which my desire for Spring translates into obscure resemblances to the calls of red birds & peter-birds, or even of songsparrows (sic). The sun is like a midsummer sun, and hangs in a dull heavy opaque yellow sky – ; ; ------------------------ ; Last night the organist at the theatre played the Prelude to Lohengrin. ; ; ------------------------; At noon on the walk to my room I rejoiced in the warm air, the bright sunshine; the water dripping noisily from old soot-stained eaves & porches & the ice ruts in the streets sparkling with melted snow; the gleam of – quickening poplar branches – but when I got to my room I found a letter from Bertha telling me three days had passed by with no letter from me; and I had sent a letter Monday telling her to set the date of our marriage, & expecting an answer today – a heavy weight seemed to crush me, and all the Spring joy of the day was gone. ; The clouds are dappled tonight – they are like a benediction – on a night like the opening part of the Lohengrin prelude would sound fine –