Adam Derums
Night Hid The Sun And Your Face Consumes My DreamsAnd The Lark Sung In The Laurel TreeA Remote DawnThe Oldest Sobs In The History Of ManLike An Ice Palace Made Of Frozen SighsLike An Ice Palace Made Of Frozen SighsWhile The Moon Danced With Thy Fair Stranger LightThe Air Was Blue With The Sound Of WordsIn the Tangle of Loves Very HairFor Here it Would Be Dark Like the Back End of EveningLest That Stars Totter In the Guilt of ManAnd A Haggard Shaft of Daylight Would Glance in Between the Swirling WreathsA Troop Echoes, Whose Sweet Duty Was But To Sing
A Remote Dawn
Goddard deFiddes Gallery. 5 August-27 August 2011
BACK TO ARTWORK