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