Tom King in Staffordshire is the star of this still life. He was the inspiration for the famous English poem my mother used to read to me and my sisters before going to bed. We loved it and it was a popular request. See words below.

I was always a hopeless romantic and this bright domestic scene with the coastal cliffs in the background sets beauty right in the foreground. Perhaps the highway man rides the Dorset paths at night as the wind taps the window, still looking for Bess?

The Highwayman (By Alfred Noyes)
Part I

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh.
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he called with a soft whistle before the window barred.
And out of the darkness, the red-lipped daughter of the landlord, Bess,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair,
With one little window, just a square of darkness to look through,
She heard him, not a word, but the tapping of his whip on the pane,
And the Highwayman whispered, "Stand and deliver, Bess!
And I'll be back in the morning, Bess,
In the light of the moon, Bess,
And I'll be back in the morning, Bess, to-night, as sure as the moon shines."
She said, "I love you," no word, but only the touch of her hand,
And he kissed her hair, and he kissed her cheek, and he kissed her hand,
And he rode away in the moonlight, out of the dark inn-yard.
And she stood in the dark, with the window just a square of darkness to look through,
And the Highwayman whispered, "Stand and deliver, Bess!"