Such a morning it is when love leans through geranium windows and calls with a cockerel`s tongue. When red-haired girls scamper like roses over the rain-green grass; and the sun drips honey. When hedgerows grow venerable, berries dry black as blood, and holes suck in their bees. Such a morning it is when mice run whispering from the church, dragging dropped ears of harvest. When the partridge draws back his spring and shoots like a buzzing arrow over grained and mahogany fields. When no table is bare, and no beast dry, and the tramp feeds on ribs of rabbit.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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