Et tu, Harrison? Between you and McCartney and your sickening optimism I might just start feeling cheered up. This is really very cheerful and lovely, written when Harrison was newly married and awaiting the birth of his son. Unlike some, George Harrison is not the type to get schmaltzy just for the sake of it, so when he writes a gooey-eyed ode to love you know he’s serious about it. Not to knock all the silly love songs out there, but some people reflexively use declarations of love as an easy topic that doesn’t require a lot of thought. You could say that it kind of cheapens the sentiment, unless you’re the type who’s susceptible to even the most phony sentimentality. (I’m not making a dig at Paul McCartney here; he’s nothing if not utterly sincere.) George Harrison didn’t have any pretentious notions of himself as a poet, and his image as a very, very serious and constantly deep-thinking man isn’t entirely accurate either. (Exhibit A; Eric Idle, lifelong friendship with.) Not everything he said or did was necessarily fraught with deep portent, but he was always sincere. Therefore, the reassurance that love will indeed come to everyone might sound like a big fat load of corn syrup coming from fluffier headed people, but I can accept it from George Harrison, because I feel assured that he meant it.