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vol. 3, p. 100
H. P. Blavatsky Scrapbooks
from Adyar arhives of the International Theosophical Society
vol. 3 (1875-1878)


  • HPB note
  • HPB underlined
  • HPB crossed out
  • <Editors note>
  • <Archivist note>
  • Lost or unclear
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Spiritualism in England

< author: Oxon, M. A. >



< notes: Source unknown, also published in Mount Alexander Mail, August 14, 1874, p.2 >

The earth is in a melting mood,
This morning of the year ;
And clasped around by mists that brood,
She smiles to find herself so wooed,
With, now and then, a tear.

The topmost fastness of the hill
Has let the winter go ;
The happy-hearted little rill
No longer shivers past the mill
To meadows hushed with snow.

The birds let fall their new-born dreams
Upon me from above ;
And many a meadow wed with beams,
And many a wind-kissed blossom seems
To say a word for love.

What is there in this tender air
To thrill me like a dart ?
It quickens places poor and bare,
And every covet sweet and fair,
Except one maiden’s heart.

O, are such changeful gleams of light
Made only to beguile ?
Then, I am but a foolish wight,
To be so glad because, last night,
She blessed me with a smile.

But O, when ice and snow relent,
And every coldest thing ;
Might not, perchance, one more repent,
And melting into warm consent,
Flood all my heart with Spring?


A Definition of the Science.–Its Uses, Etc.
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