University of Mississippi - Ole Miss Yearbook (Oxford, MS)

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TO A LITTLE BLUE FLOWER IN CORNWALL Little blue flower on the cliff, Looking outward to Cardiff, Can you hear me while the tide Beats below such stress and stride? If not, I can wait, you know, Till the tide is low. Meseems that you have never died From King Arthur's day to this, Though each winter you must .hide From the minstrel's touch and kiss, But you wake with spring again, And the clear, white rain, And the fair Young April air. Once what cavalcades passed here, Martial music in your ear, Jesters sauntering to the court, Troubadours with mad1'igals, Hounds and horsemen for the sport, Bugling, trumpets, hunter's calls, And holy fathers with heads bowed, Muttering aves half aloud, Full half the world for fortune hot, Staking all on Camelot. Here the King's Round Table passed, And the damsels of the Queen, With the big herds following last, Tribute of the King's demesne. Here on her palfrey Gueneveve Came al'l in green and gold arrayed, And strong and bright Sir Lancelot's spear In her service long assayed. Here went Sir Garette and Sir Bors, Ygraine, Nimue and Pelleas, With shying steed at prickly gorse. La Beale Isoude did hither pass, Riding with Tristram from the spi.es Of crafty Mark. And her eyes were blue, Blue and tender as the skies, Little flower, and so were you. That was many years ago, And you have watched them one by oneg Fewer, fewer come and go Till their days were done. 12

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Former Chancellors.

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Still from your thoughts, oh treasure trove You can people every cove, Fill all the shore with antique gleams, Cast round each distant passing boat Some dim romance spun from your dreams Can see the white gulls upward float, As if foam caps, blown astray, Drifted from the flocking spray. Still may you hear the night wind go Whistling where the rushes wave, Hear the surges swinging slow In a dim, blue-watered cave, May fancy music in the air, Gauntlet clink on boss of targe, From some carven, pageant barge Anchored there. And with your breath the air is laden, And the perfume of the heather, As when faery lady's maiden Mingles honey sweets together. Like the spirit of the Savour, As the ancient legends tell, For a signal of his favor, Jesus sent into the cell, Round Sir Lancelot's low bed, When the startled brothers crept There and found him lying dead, As if he smiled and slept. And you have memories to hold Of th.e morning of this land, Of fresh dew and that first gold That the morning brings to hand, And flowers that have seen, I trow, Mighty thoughts become great deeds, Find it easier to grow Tall 'mid choking, common weeds. They that have seen not count 'such love, Such feats, such strokes but bard's fancy, But you have seen, nor doubts can move That such things be. Perhaps your purity now joins Our age to Arthur's purer oneg Who knows but from his princely rloins Some drop of blood our veins may run. And I claim that each tide may bring Word of some Lord yet that bore Mind of child and heart of king, That some brave deed and song of yore, Like a sweet, strong incense, Still may rise to them that strive For a larger sky, and live Lives in the old innocence. 13