Richmond Womans College - Puffs and Patches Yearbook (Richmond, VA)

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Polk Miller U Cl'lRONlClalE of our college lite would be complete without a mention of the sad loss we have sustained in the death ol our one and only Polk Miller, loved and admired throughout our land. Ilis death is a loss to the South. to Virginia. to Richmond and to us, ll',UIllZlll'S College, girls personally, for he was our friend. ll'e recall with so much pleasure and tender pride his visit to us in the spring and how, when his program was over, we gathered around him and would not let him go, llis place cannot be lilledg but he is not dead. he lives in our memories and our hearts. and the Southland will never let him die. And because of what he was and did, but especially because he was our friend, we claim the privilege of laying this little forget-me-not upon the grave of our own Polk Miller. The Tillles-Dispclfvlz of this city published the following verses, whieh we consider not inappropriate to republish here: The South has seen the passing of a type, The old plantation negro's day is o'erg His final exit from the stage is made And We his like shall look upon no more. But not unlovecl, nor yet unsung, he passed, For there was one who knew his type so well That he in song and story weaved a tale True to that life of which he loved to tell. With neither tricks nor trappings of a show, With neither fear, nor blame, nor sad lament, He brought the Old South back to life again And spoke her true as through the land he Went. Great Homer tuned his matchless lyre to chant The by-gone glories of his hero-race: Old Milton, with his mighty organ note, Invoked the Heavenly Muse his theme to grace: But he, our minstrel, with no classic phrase, lust in the dear old tongue of Dixieland, Tuned to the humming of the banjo string, Has made for us an epic just as grand. For he who will not let his homeland die, Nor let its types and heroes be forgot, He widens as he goes the skirts of light, And is at once a son and patriot. So in the Southern hearts' great hall of fame Thou hast a right among its great to standg Upon thy face that smile that all men loved, Thy banjo, tuned to Dixie, in thy hand! Muir C.xR'rlcI: A N IJIQRSHN. IQS

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