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