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
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.
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.
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