it flower little Is raining,

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