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