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