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