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