The level upland cornfields stretch away white and vacant to the hills--white, too, and clear against the sky.

The plain is silent, and nothing that can be seen moves upon its surface.
On the verge of the wood which occupies the sloping ground there stands a great oak tree, and down one side of its trunk is a narrow white streak of snow.

Leaning against the oak and looking upwards, every branch and twig is visible, lit up by the moon.

Overhead the stars are dimmed, but they shine more brightly yonder above the hills.

Such leaves as have not yet fallen hang motionless: those that are lying on the ground are covered by the snow, and thus held fast from rustling even were the wind to blow.