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