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Updated: May 13, 2025
Stoddart's Betty, slowly, relentlessly, through forty years, used "The Death Wake" for the needs and processes of her art. The whole of the edition, except probably a few "presentation copies," perished in the kitchen. As for that fell cook, let us hope that "The Biblioclastic Dead Have diverse pains to brook, They break Affliction's bread With Betty Barnes, the Cook,"
Under cover of affliction's night and storm Anna, this whole Anna Callender, had been reinforced, had fortified and was a new problem. She greeted Flora with a welcoming beam, but before speaking she caught her sister's arm and glanced herself, at the superscription. "Flora!" she softly cried, "oh, Flora Valcour! has your brother your Charlie! come home alive and well? What; no? No, he has not?"
If anything can add effect to the pure feeling and elevated thought here displayed, it is the conviction, that the who leis no effusion of fancy, but a faithful transcript from the writer's heart. As one who, destined from his friends to part, Regrets his loss, but hopes again erewhile To share their converse and enjoy their smile, And tempers as he may affliction's dart;
A GIRL sings behind the rail fence: "No man may hope to flee the sting Of cruel affliction's pain; New love within the heart may sing Regret still in its train." GIRL. Pretty, but not yours! LEONÍD. Come here! GIRL. Where? LEONÍD. To me in the garden. GIRL. Why go to you? LEONÍD. I'll go to town and buy you earrings. GIRL. You're only a kid! She laughs loudly and goes out.
His snow-white hair was gathered close beside the temples, back from a face of ineffable simplicity and goodness the face of a man at peace with God and all the world, yet marked with scars scars of bygone passions, cross-hatched and almost effaced by deeper scars of calamity. As Miss Plinlimmon wrote in her album "Few men so deep as Major Brooks Have drained affliction's cup.
Amid the silence of the night, Amid its lonely hours and dreary, When we Close the aching sight, Musing sadly, lorn and weary, Trusting that tomorrow's light May reveal a day more cheery; Amid affliction's darker hour, When no hope beguiles our sadness, When Death's hurtling tempests lower, And forever shroud our gladness, While Grief's unrelenting power Goads our stricken hearts to madness;
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