by Emily Dickinson
She walked the wards, serene and calm,
With noiseless footfall, soft and light;
Her watchful care, her healing balm,
Made darkest shadows turn to bright.
She came and went, with tireless zeal,
With ready hand, with patient heart;
To all who suffer, she would kneel,
And gentlest soothing would impart.
She saw the weak and helpless lie,
She heard the moans of pain and woe;
But ever to the suffering eye
She brought a smile, a cheering glow.
O nurse divine, whose gentle skill
Can lift the burden from the breast,
Whose kindly hand can soothe and still
The pain that robs the soul of rest!
by Maggie Pittman
They come and go like angels
From heaven to earth and back
Leaving love and kindness
In their wake, along the track.
They come with tender hands
And eyes so full of care
And offer healing potions
And words of solace there.
They lift us from our pain
And take us in their arms
And hold us close and tight
As we succumb to their charms.
They wipe away our tears
And whisper in our ear
That everything will be okay
And there's nothing left to fear.
So bless these gentle nurses
Who give of heart and soul
For they are truly angels
Who make our broken bodies whole.
Anon
The ones who aid the doctors heal,
With tender loving care;
The ones who watch the patients feel
The pain, and help them fare!
The ones who stay bed-side and see
The sufferings of those ill;
The ones who treat the malady
By checking drugs and bill!
The ones who say words of kindness
To allay fear, console;
The ones who bring back happiness
To patients by their role!
The ones who make the beds for sick,
And tuck them off to sleep;
The ones who raise, bring down the wick,
Responding to each beep!
The ones who work the magic full,
And keep the ailing clean;
Those ones bring heaven upon hell,
To sick in earthly scene!