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no edit summary
| page = 140
| page = 140
| item =1
| item =1
| type = poetry
| type = proofread
| status = wanted
| status = wanted
| continues =
| continues =
| subtitle =
| subtitle =
| untitled =
| untitled =
| source title = Spiritualist, The
| source title = London Spiritualist
| source details = Jan. 11, 1878
| source details = No. 281, January 11, 1878, p. 24
| publication date = 1878-01-11
| publication date = 1878-01-11
| original date =
| original date =
}}
}}
...
{{Style S-Small capitals|Within}} the house was full of light,
{{Style P-Poem|poem=The cheerful fires blazed high and warm;
Without, the snow lay thick and white,
And darker, chiller, grew the night,
And wilder, fiercer, raged the storm.
Within, the children frolicked glad,
The old walls with their laughter rang;
Without, a little ragged lad,
In trembling accents weak and sad,
A Merry Christmas carol sang.
Within, a Mother, young and sweet,
The story of the Christ-child told,
Meanwhile an orphan in the street,
With thin, worn, hands, and unshod feet,
Stood shivering in the bitter cold.
Within, their pleasant pastimes o’er,
The mother bade the children pray
For all God’s homeless, houseless poor,
And knew not from her close-shut door
The carol singer crept away.
Fair brake the Christmas morn, and lo!
With presents to each little bed,
Within, kind friends passed to and fro,
And outside, in the cruel snow,
A little beggar-lad lay dead.}}
{{Style P-Signature in capitals|C. A'''. '''Burke.}}
Christmas, 1877.
{{HPB-SB-item
{{HPB-SB-item
| item =2
| item =2
| type = poetry
| type = poetry
| status = wanted
| status = proofread
| continues =
| continues =
| author =Worthington (Ennesfallen), Alice
| author =Worthington (Ennesfallen), Alice
| subtitle =
| subtitle =
| untitled =
| untitled =
| source title = Spiritualist, The
| source title = London Spiritualist
| source details = Jan. 11, 1878
| source details = No. 281, January 11, 1878, p. 24
| publication date = 1878-01-11
| publication date = 1878-01-11
| original date =
| original date =
}}
}}
...
{{Style S-Small capitals|Once}} I built a beauteous castle,
{{Style P-Poem|poem=Nought on earth seemed half so fair,
A bright rainbow for a staircase,
The foundation—clearest air.
Lilies filled with oil of amber,
Shed abroad a mystic ray;
Balmy summer ne’er departed,
Nor soft music died away.
The tall pillars were great palm trees,
And each palm of shining gold;
Lightly fell the perfumed waters
From bright fountains clear and cold.
Brilliant birds fled to the castle,
All attracted by its light;
Revelled on the yellow fruitage,
Sang throughout the starlit night.
The fair walls were made of rose leaves,
Pure and white as Alpine snow,
And my love dwelt in that castle—
That was all I cared to know.
One sad evening while I lingered,
Lost in visions sweet and fair,
Then behold! it swiftly vanished,
Passed away in lightest air.}}
{{Style P-Signature in capitals|Alice Worthington (Ennesfallen).}}
{{Style S-HPB SB. HPB note|Dec. 29, 1878|center}}
{{Style S-HPB SB. HPB note|Dec. 29, 1878|center}}
{{HPB-SB-footer-footnotes}}
{{HPB-SB-footer-footnotes}}
<gallery widths=300px heights=300px>
london_spiritualist_n.281_1878-01-11.pdf|page=14|London Spiritualist, No. 281, January 11, 1878, p. 24
</gallery>