Is it raining, little flower? Be glad of rain;
Too much sun would wither one;
It will shine again.
The clouds are very dark, it’s true;
But just behind them shines the blue.
Are you weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain:
In sorrow, sweetest virtues grow,
As flowers in rain.
God watches, and you will have sun,
When clouds their perfect work have done. —Lucy Larcom
Craig T. Owens 
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