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