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