raining, it flower Is little

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