WINTER IN DURNOVER FIELD

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!