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