Where's The Snow That Fell The Year

For Dhrames Always Go By Conthraries, My Dear.

There Was A Place In Childhood That I Remember Well, And There A Voice Of Sweetest Tone Bright Fairy Tales Did Tell.

Too Little Is It Considered, While We Gaze On Aristocratic Beauty, How Much Good Food, Soft Lying, Warm Wrapping, Ease Of Mind, Have To Do With The Attractions Which Command Our Admiration.

My Hearing Has Suffered Seriously; Just Now I Am Obliged To Have The Assistance Of An Ear Trumpet. Think Of That, My Beauty! - There 's A State For Your Old Lover To Be In! - No More Tender Whisperings! Imagine Sweet Confessions To Be Made Through An Ear Trumpet!

Where's The Snow That Fell The Year That's Fled--where's The Snow?