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