Such a morning it is when love br leans through geranium windows br and calls with a cockerel's tongue. br br When red-haired girls scamper like roses br over the rain-green grass; br and the sun drips honey. br br When hedgerows grow venerable, br berries dry black as blood, br and holes suck in their bees. br br Such a morning it is when mice br run whispering from the church, br dragging dropped ears of harvest. br br When the partridge draws back his spring br and shoots like a buzzing arrow br over grained and mahogany fields. br br When no table is bare, br and no beast dry, br and the tramp feeds on ribs of rabbit.