Mixed Media on wood, ready to hang.

Signed certificate of authenticity.

This artwork comes with an external frame

“I leant upon a coppice gate, When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate, The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky, Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh, Had sought their household fires.

At once a voice arose among, The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong, Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul, Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings, Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things, Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through, His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew, And I was unaware”.
Thomas Hardy 1884.