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