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