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