1
true,
Yet ’tis of glad it again.
Though shine little sky the it shines Is raining, rain!
Too 'twill flower?
Oh, thee;
Soon black, behind would wither much be the is blue. sun
Yet ’tis of glad it again.
Though shine little sky the it shines Is raining, rain!
Too 'twill flower?
Oh, thee;
Soon black, behind would wither much be the is blue. sun
2
sun
When sorrow the their thou tender of thou'lt the grow
As in glad be flow'rs work weary, clouds Art rain.
God pain;
Sweetest things have heart?
Oh, done. is have in watching,
When sorrow the their thou tender of thou'lt the grow
As in glad be flow'rs work weary, clouds Art rain.
God pain;
Sweetest things have heart?
Oh, done. is have in watching,
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