Friday, August 25, 2017

Hello Everyone! Several days ago, I was thinking about a remarkable heroine in America’s history that most people know about but don’t always think about her very much as a leading lady in history. The woman I am speaking of is Florence Nightingale.

Florence Nightingale was born in 1820, but it wasn’t until 1853 when the Crimean war began, that she became a nurse. 
On Nov. 4, 1854, Florence left Britain with a group of thirty- eight other nurses to work in a military hospital in Turkey to heal the wounded soldiers in the infirmary. 

During the day, she would sit at the soldiers bedside, and at night, when the moon was high in the sky, and crystalline stars dotted the sky, she walked slowly about the ward with a lit lamp in her hand to visit each of the suffering soldiers.
She was remembered in history as a heroine who sacrificed her time and energy to take up the cause of the nation and help the soldiers in need.

"I attribute my success to this:- I never gave or took an excuse"
-Florence Nightingale

Below, I have written a poem about the integrity and willingness of Florence Nightingale.

The Lady with the Lamp

She walks about with quiet pace,
A water glass one hand embrace,
Along the dusty floors she tramps.
The other hand a burning lamp.

Her apron tied without a plight,
And her eyes smiling with delight.
Walking through the weary camp
Her hand placed on the burning lamp.

The men on sick beds did lay,
While she assists them all the day.
The air it was stony and damp,
While walked the Lady with the Lamp.

When one man calls, she comes to aid,
Without a question or a bade.
She walks to him coming down the ramp,
Whilst she holds her trusty lamp.

Pat his head with a cloth she will,
And give them water that is chill. 
Hold up to them a bowl of samp,
And light their faces with her lamp.

Though at the end of the long day,
Her eyes, drooping weary from the rays.
She sits down with a heaving sigh,
And thinks how all that day did fly.

But even though with weary back,
From all the work she did not lack,
Joy filled her heart to the brim,
When all the men were healed again.


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