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