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