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It isn't an I’m-so-happy-I-could-die love song; it isn't teen infatuation (not that there’s anything wrong with that) or tormented torch. It's a mellow, wistful, grow-old-with-me declaration, rendered in the tenderest manner. Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II wrote it in 1937; some of the usual suspects (Torme, Crosby, Grappelli, Hartman, Krall, Simone) have had a go at it. Here's Miss Pegg
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