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