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Updated: June 6, 2025


"A Melody" is beautiful; "Butterflies and Buttercups" is the perfection of grace; "I Know not if Moonlight or Starlight" is a fine rapture, and "A Disappointment" is a dire tragedy, all about some young toadstools that thought they were going to be mushrooms. For postlude two measures from the cantabile of Chopin's "Funeral March" are used with droll effect.

Elizabeth, for example, during the postlude of the duet with Tannhauser in the second act, has to justify the re-entry of the tender theme in the clarinet in slower tempo by looking as is indicated in the score after Tannhauser in the court of the castle and by beckoning to him.

There is no question here of poetical license, for Wolfram sings the apostrophe after her retreating figure, and the last chord of his postlude is interrupted by Tannhauser's words, "Ich horte Harfenschlag!"

One rhapsody has been published, that in E minor; in spite of its good details, it is curiously unsatisfying, it seems all prelude, interlude, and postlude, with the actual rhapsody accidentally overlooked. A "Meditation" is bleak, with a strong, free use of dissonance. "The Jumblies" is a setting of Edward Lear's elusive nonsense, as full of the flavor of subtile humor as its original.

At the close of the message, which referred to sundry matters of current business, came a playful postlude. ``Tell his Majesty, said the President, ``that I am a hunter and, as such, envy him one thing especially: he has done what I have never yet been able to do he has killed a whale.

Up in her corner beside the chancel, the organist was still playing her postlude; then she closed the organ, and rose to come down the steps, drawing on her gloves as she came. Before she had time to raise her eyes towards the congregation, the stranger was joined by Charlie MacGregor, who had hurried to the place where he was still pausing irresolutely, with his eyes fixed on Louise. "Dr.

Coffin, to play, as the postlude to this service, the stateliest of funeral marches, but I dissuaded him. This is a Christian funeral. Our music is not a dirge, but a jubilate. The hope of our friend in life is ours for him in death.

Some special sweetness seemed to have crept into saying prayers; our Lord Jesus seemed very personal and very close as she whispered to Him a postlude: "I will fear no evil, for Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I'll dwell in Thy house forever, O Lord Amen." For a time she lay open-eyed in her little white bed.

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