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