I've Always Loved The Night And I'll

It Was In The Spring That Josephine And I Had First Loved Each Other, Or, At Least, Had First Come Into The Full Knowledge That We Loved. I Think That We Must Have Loved Each Other All Our Lives, And That Each Succeeding Spring Was A Word In The Revelation Of That Love, Not To Be Understood Until, In The Fullness Of Time, The Whole Sentence Was Written Out In That Most Beautiful Of All Beautiful Springs.

The Night Was Clear And Frosty, All Ebony Of Shadow And Silver Of Snowy Slope; Big Stars Were Shining Over The Silent Fields; Here And There The Dark Pointed Firs Stood Up With Snow Powdering Their Branches And The Wind Whistling Through Them.

If I Can't Get What I Want - Well, I'll Want What I Can Get.

Besides, I've Been Feeling A Little Blue — Just A Pale, Elusive Azure. It Isn't Serious Enough For Anything Darker.

It's So Hard To Get Up Again—although Of Course The Harder It Is The More Satisfaction You Have When You Do Get Up, Haven't You?