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