I am the Lady of the Lamp.
The hospitals are dark and damp.
A ministering angel, they say I am,
But I’m just a nurse, like a little lamb.
War rages and ravishes men.
I try to say a quiet: “Amen.”
My cross is red and very royal.
I’ve been true and always loyal.
The merciful and meek are blessed.
Infirmity must be addressed.
My father believed women must learn.
Now medicine and math are my concern.
I felt called to help those who suffer.
Compassion is the truest buffer.
Though I’m tired and sometimes nervous,
I give myself to a life of service.
Like the bird who sings a song,
A Nightingale knows love is strong.
I make my rounds to soldiers at night.
My lamp shines like the bright moonlight.
Copyright 2016 Jennifer Waters