Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum.
— from Ode to Evening, William Collins 1721-1759

RPS international photography exhibition 162

Shortlisted artist


Fine Art Prints

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