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