Mixed Media on wood

Signed certificate of authenticity.

This artwork comes with an external frame

Whilst in Cornwall recently , I walked along seawalls dotted with fishermen cottages that were hundreds of years old.
so beautiful and untouched.
Here is a whimsical poem to go with my painting.

“The little fishing village seemed to sleep,
Nestling its head against the rock strewn hill,
Along whose earthy sides the brown-backed sheep
Cropped the low grass, and wandered at their will ;

Its foot reached down to meet the coming tide,
Which slowly crept along the wrinkled sand ;
Beyond, the bay stretched out, calm, deep, and wide,
Bounded by rugged cliffs on either hand, -

To where the summer mist hid sky, and sea, and land.
The changing clouds looked down upon the sea,
And lingered long to see enshadowed there
The image of their own inconstancy….

As wantonly they sported with the air,
Or searched with strong and penetrating gaze
Into the mysteries of the depths below,
Where o'er their rocky bed, in tangled maze….
The sea-weed fronds waved idly to and fro,
Moved by the current's ever ebb and flow.

Of voice, or foot-fall, from the village street,
Or when some lone sea-bird that floated round
Did its wild melancholy cry repeat,
Or save for the low murmur of the wave,
Whispering sad secrets."

Where their quaint dwellings lined the rugged street
Sat women knitting round each open door,
While bare-legged children gamboled at their feet,
Or built tall castles on the sandy shore.

Brown, tangled-bearded men, lolled near the strand,
Telling strange tales of venture long gone by,
Or mended brown-webbed nets with ready hand,
Or idly watched with listless, half-closed eye,
Each changing aspect of the sea and sky.