Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Spring – brook – the boys who tormented the old man by running his wagon against his front door – in spite of his rage, the old man didn’t swear – all he could think of was to call one of them “you big gawk, you.” The Lunch room – the county village sports – drinking near beer – one thinks he recognized me & came up & shook hands & called me Baker – the player piano – the maudlin old man – ; Down into valley – The water-fall towards following the streams edge –; ; Mar 10, 1922; I am homesick for The North Country in March, of slate pile & old mines & far stretching swamp wastes – ; For some muddy stream where pussy willows bristle – ; For the March swamp fires rushing over the flat county on a vast white Saturday afternoon – ; For the Bottoms, on a sunny noon in March – when all eternity is gathered into one hour –