**sold** “tides”
Original Oil painting on Belgium Claessens Linen. This is one of the finest surfaces to paint on.
Size Approx 95cm x3x 115cm
Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveller to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
This will be at my art show in 3 weeks as one of my statement pieces.
Original Oil painting on Belgium Claessens Linen. This is one of the finest surfaces to paint on.
Size Approx 95cm x3x 115cm
Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveller to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
This will be at my art show in 3 weeks as one of my statement pieces.
Original Oil painting on Belgium Claessens Linen. This is one of the finest surfaces to paint on.
Size Approx 95cm x3x 115cm
Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The tide rises, the tide falls, The twilight darkens, the curlew calls; Along the sea-sands damp and brown The traveller hastens toward the town, And the tide rises, the tide falls. Darkness settles on roofs and walls, But the sea, the sea in darkness calls; The little waves, with their soft, white hands, Efface the footprints in the sands, And the tide rises, the tide falls. The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls; The day returns, but nevermore Returns the traveller to the shore, And the tide rises, the tide falls.
This will be at my art show in 3 weeks as one of my statement pieces.