it raining, little Is flower

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