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