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