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