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The Fishermans Cottage by Meg Lewer

This is a mixed collage of a humble abode describing a cottage where a little girl lives with her mother and waits for her Fisherman father who will not be coming home. Can you see her?

“The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman’s cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
To see some form arise.

And a woman’s waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,
Now bowing and bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
As they beat at the crazy casement,
Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the Mother,
Drive the colour from her cheek.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1878

The Fishermans Cottage

Meg Lewer

AUD$950
Size: 45w x 45h x 4d cms
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Original seascape using a variety of collage mixed media techniques on wide edge canvas.

Ready to hang

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Additional Information

The Fishermans Cottage by Meg Lewer

This is a mixed collage of a humble abode describing a cottage where a little girl lives with her mother and waits for her Fisherman father who will not be coming home. Can you see her?

“The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman’s cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
To see some form arise.

And a woman’s waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,
Now bowing and bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
As they beat at the crazy casement,
Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the Mother,
Drive the colour from her cheek.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1878