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Will O’ The Wisp.
As soon as I finished this painting, the notion of a Will O’ The Wisp came flittering thru the dark grasses, dancing, under the gaze of the moon.
Here is a beautiful old poem to describe the phenomena of the light by
Anne Campbell Huestis 1878…..

THE Will-o’-the-Wisp is out on the marsh,
And all alone he goes;
There’s not a sight of his glimmering light
From break of day to close;
But all night long, from dusk till dawn,
He drifts where the night wind blows.
The twilight covers the dreaming hills,
The evening dews begin;
There’s none to care that he wanders there,
There’s none to call him in;
And all the night, with his lonely light,
He goes where the mists have been.

With your elfin light for a lantern bright
The bogs and the marshes thru.
The dawn comes over the silent hills,
And calls to the winds of morn;
The stars grow pale, and the sun cries, ‘Hail!’
To the shadowy fields forlorn;
And good-bye, good-bye, to the Will-o’-the-Wisp,
Who dies when the day is born!
Annie Campbell Huestis. 1878.

Will O’ The Wisp

Meg Lewer

AUD$1,680
Size: 60w x 60h x 3d cms
View in my room

Installments by Afterpay available between AUD$0 - AUD$1,000 Learn More

Original Mixed Media on board
Framed and ready to hang

In stock

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Sold By: Meg Lewer

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Additional Information

Will O’ The Wisp.
As soon as I finished this painting, the notion of a Will O’ The Wisp came flittering thru the dark grasses, dancing, under the gaze of the moon.
Here is a beautiful old poem to describe the phenomena of the light by
Anne Campbell Huestis 1878…..

THE Will-o’-the-Wisp is out on the marsh,
And all alone he goes;
There’s not a sight of his glimmering light
From break of day to close;
But all night long, from dusk till dawn,
He drifts where the night wind blows.
The twilight covers the dreaming hills,
The evening dews begin;
There’s none to care that he wanders there,
There’s none to call him in;
And all the night, with his lonely light,
He goes where the mists have been.

With your elfin light for a lantern bright
The bogs and the marshes thru.
The dawn comes over the silent hills,
And calls to the winds of morn;
The stars grow pale, and the sun cries, ‘Hail!’
To the shadowy fields forlorn;
And good-bye, good-bye, to the Will-o’-the-Wisp,
Who dies when the day is born!
Annie Campbell Huestis. 1878.

Free Shipping Australia Wide