SPECTATOR COMPETITION No. 64

Report by Guy Kendall

A prize was offered for a triolet on birds-nesting.

The origin of this competition was a letter in The Tiims deploring the fact that during the last few years our song-birds, especially thrushes, have diminished in number, which disaster the writers attributed to the birds-nesters. But perhaps it was well that no particular line of treatment was suggested, for the variety of approach has been remarkable. There have been plenty of entries that point the moral ; some defend the abstraction of a single egg for scientific purposes, and L. F. Ramsey thinks that " the frightful din of jackdaws," which have built within the chimney, calls for total liquidation ; there is even the " rations" interest, and the love motive (eyes for my lover and none for eggs) appears twice.

The triolet seems to observe no limit to the length of lines, and one who would lay down a law would no doubt be confronted with classical instances of the triolet in alexandrines, of which one instance actually occurred:.

" Lo the lark's nest is trampled ; all your spring is dust."

But I confess to feeling that the triplet should be petite, the best model being Austin Dobson's

"I intended an Ode And it turned to a Sonnet.

It began a la mode.

I intended an Ode ; But Rose crossed the road In her latest new bonnet ; I intended an Ode ; And it turned to a Sonnet."

On another point of structure, some competitors have been ultra- conscientious in giving a different emphasis—even involving gram- matical change—on the first two lines and their reappearance at the end, and have marred their general effect by doing so. Mrs. D. S. Walker, evidently agreeing to the essential delicacy of the triolet, wove it in with her subject matter: " A wren's egg with its winsome face Is like a triolet. You'd say It held a spark of joy and grace, A wren's egg with its winsome face, A small delight in little space

To charm a moment of the day. A wren's egg with its winsome face Is like a triolet you'd say ? "

The moralists, besides appealing to pity, brought it home in practical ways. The plunderer breaks his leg, or

"David has.gone on a hunt for eggs

And torn the seat of his Sunday bags" (C. J. Richards).

Or, as Mrs. L. M. Maclean relates, "Egg-plundering through whins I found a kiwi's nest, Got only through my sins Egg-plundering through whins Three brown bbot-polish tins.

Birds are with humour blest.

Jane Scott Parsons gives the admirable opening " All the ardours of song and flight Came to the triumph of this small nest," but she failed to maintain her first soaring.

There is not room for the excellent Latin triolet that proceeded from the City Grammar School, Chester (Charles Race), and the English version was less good. It began :` " Puer ova (quid obstat ?) habebit Non est saris esse parentem ;"

Lastly two competitors hit upon the bird's nest as Chinese delicacy. Harry will take only one or two . eggs, says Leslie Johnson,

Where Chung, by equal fortune blessed, Will take the whole thing home for soup" (but is it really soup ?), and the same idea cants to N. S. Percival. I recommend that the prize be divided equally between C. P. Driver, W. M. Mathieson, and N. Wishart. Commended are K. S. KitehiO, Margaret Bishop, B: R. Cheesman, R. Kennard-Davis. and W. Bernard Wake. . . PRIZES (C. P. DRIVER)

Remeinber, when you climb each tree That there a song imprisoned lies And if you would not wish to be— (Remember, when you climb each tree)— The robber of such melody,

Stay at the bottom, and be wise: Remember, when you climb each tree That there a song imprisoned lies.

(W. M. Mathieson) We lingered in a woodland place Birds-nesting. she and 1; While gazing in her lovely face (We lingered in a woodland place) 1 quite forgot the feathered race'-- And maybe that was why We lingered in a woodland place Birds-nesting, she and I.

(N. WISIIART) We've made our nest at the top of the tree. And never a cat knows where.

The moon shines bright on my mate and me, We've made our nest at the top of the tree, For birds and cats will never agree: We're a very particular pair, We've made our nest at the top of the tree, And never a cat knows where.