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