Millikin University - Millidek Yearbook (Decatur, IL)

Page 15 text:

And thus the doors that welcomed me in remain forever in my memory, a distant, hazy, Time-mellowed threshhold

Page 14 text:

Mirrored Memories Four seasons have come — and gone. Over the towers of Millikin, Leaving glowing pictures Mirrorred in our memory. Yearj from, now We shall think of our campus: Tall bare brown branching trees And statehj frosted toners Of some winter morning; Or of green foliage Rain washed and shining in the sun Against, the warm red bricks Of Millikin ' s beloved halls Which, memory shall first pass Across our glass Held up to catch each slanting ray Of light from this glad year? Will it be a day Of late luxuriant summer, With a glimpse of red-tiled roofs Over a multitude of trees — Bringing back to us That joyous, happy welcome Of the beginning of the year? Rather perhaps — wait until Autumn has changed the green leaves Of all the tall oak trees To dull gold, rich in a wealth of brown, Flecked with crimson And touched by the setting sun, Luminous with a new-found beauty, Blending their myriad hues With the solid color of those walls Which seem in that enchanted moment To be autumn tinted too. Then — there is a night hushed and dark-, With softly falling feathery flakes of snoiv. The lights at the entrance gate Glow faintly, making a yellow haze And white-like patches on the ground. The outline of the roof and tower Silhouette against the blackness of the sky, Each crevice, curve, and straight-top edge Laden, with a thousand clinging flakes Of fairy foam. Each flake a star If we could but see it so. But, at the last, is spring Flinging across the campus Her mantle of new green leaves unfurled. There is a picture Of morning sunlight streaming Through the trees, Casting shadoivs across the path Which leads past the chimney and the gym To the thicket beyond, Luring willing footsteps on And back again To the wild rose buds And Spiraea ' s white burst of bloom. This is but half; The other half, untold, Will linger in our thoughts no less, And Millikin i s ours for ever Because we shall remember Such great beauty of our lives. And then, who knows . . . ? — E. H. P.

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Across green campus slopes a path winds westward, and over it floats the fragrance of roses and the lilting notes of a song — symbols of the harmony and beauty which for- ever link the Halls of Music to those of its Sister Arts