In which a solitary labourer, marked by a quiet melancholy, toils patiently in the early April fields of Worcestershire beneath the watching landscape of hills and elm-trees, his labour mingling with the cheerful song of birds that herald the year's fresh beginnings. Observed by the villagers whose concern shadows their casual greetings, the scene is one of nature’s enduring youth contrasted against the human stirrings of obligation and restraint.