little flower Is raining, it

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