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