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