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