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