and stream the earth and every common sight to me did seem apparelled in celestial light the glory and the freshness of a dream it is not now as it hath been of yore turn wheresoe'er I may by night or day the things which I have seen I now can see no more but there's a tree of many, one a single field which I have looked upon both of them speak of something that is gone the pansy at my feet doth the same tale repeat wither is fled the visionary gleam where it is now the glory and the dream William Wordsworth
EDWARD STREET
My grandparents (on my Mom's side), were deaf.
When I was about seven years of age, I learned sign language
out of necessity and curiosity.
My grandfather was an artist/engraver, and was an intelligent and creative man who had difficulty dealing with his infliction.
He spent most of his life hospitalized in an institution for the mentally disturbed.
I have fond memories of the many hours that my grandmother and I spent talking
with each other on our hands, at her house at 519 Edward Street in Woodstock.
This piece was created in Robert and Mona Batho's memory
and is dedicated to all those who live in the silence.
