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