Recent Addresses of James Edwin
Campbell 53
neath rest those whom we call "The
Dead"; but they
are not dead.
And dare ye call that dying? The dignity
sublime,
Which gains a furlough from the grave,
and then reports to time?
Doth the earth give up the daisies to a
little sun and rain,
And keep at their roots the heroes
while weary ages wane?
Sling up thy trumpet Israel? Sweet
bugler of our God,
For nothing waits thy summons beneath
this broken sod,
The deadest of these heroes has as
silently rent the clod,
As the clouds burst into flower when
the sun rides over the bar,
Or heaven breaks out of the blue, and
comes out star by star;
They march abreast of the ages, with
the thunder on the right,
For they bade that world "Good
morning," when this world said
"Good night".
CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL
DELIVERED SEPTEMBER 15, 1922
A few weeks ago The Ohio State
Journal sent me a
questionnaire containing a number of
interrogatories.
One of them read as follows: Who is
your favorite
heroine? I took time for due
consideration. I passed
over the ancient queens, such as
Zenobia and Semiramis,
who had established dynasties; I could
not find a place
for Isabella who, of all the sovereigns
of Europe, had
the nerve and vision to finance the discovery
of the New
World; I even let Joan of Arc go by; I
did not write
down the name of Elizabeth, that heroic
queen who, de-
spite some feminine foibles, was the
greatest ruler of
England in three hundred years; I could
not find a
place for Maria Theresa, although she,
alone in all the
world, threw down the gauntlet to that
masterful and
typical Prussian, Frederick the Great;
I omitted Ma-
dame Roland and the other heroines of
the French Rev-
olution; I did not select one of the
semi-inspired women
immortalized by the Bible, or one of
the good women