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