Winter in Durnover Field

Scene.—A wide stretch of fallow ground recently sown with wheat, and
frozen to iron hardness. Three large birds walking about thereon,
and wistfully eyeing the surface. Wind keen from north-east: sky a
dull grey.

(Triolet)

Rook.—Throughout the field I find no grain;
             The cruel frost encrusts the cornland!
Starling.—Aye: patient pecking now is vain
                 Throughout the field, I find . . .
Rook.—                                   No grain!
Pigeon.—Nor will be, comrade, till it rain,
                Or genial thawings loose the lorn land
                Throughout the field.
Rook.—                           I find no grain:
   The cruel frost encrusts the cornland!