it little Is flower raining,

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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
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