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