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