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