Florence Nightingale's house
London, July the thirtieth
Eighteen hundred and ninety:
When I am no longer even
A memory, just a name
I hope my voice may
Perpetuate the great
Work of my life. God
Bless my dear old comrades
Of Balaclava. And bring them
Safe to shore
3 Sep 07
(define the words in this poem)
(181 more poems by this author)
Add A Comment:
She speaks her poem-self for =you=
correct link here, pardon me:
Links are at this moment inoperable (Donald's done something).
Must copy, then paste either link into your address bar manually.
It's key to the poem
I am confused about the 30th July 1890.
It's good you never used any puns on thin lines or lady of the...
Because i don't understand the poem in its entireity i won't suggest you dump L1 or rewrite L12.
It's merely a transcription of her spoken words, relined as I think looks best.
Hopes to renew her presence for those who hear the matching speech.
I feel that both go together, and both are of her, really. Thanks.
This poem really intrigues me, unfortunately my poor brain can't think of an appropriate comment. So in the hope of reading other people’s crits I'll just say, BUMP
It depends from (hangs from) the audio link.
Until Donald fixes the click-ability of a link,
we have to copy the link manually, paste it into the address bar.
If you do that you'll hear the real author of this piece.
Just get tinyurl.com/2maq8a into an address bar of your tabbed browser.
Then autocomplete should cause it to take you to the sound file.
Then you'll see that all I could do, was lay it out in a relief of a form
which might have pleased her wishes: to be heard.
Note how she starts, puts out the preamble in normal speaking voice.
Then there is a long pause. Strange taps are heard. Then commences
the poet's voice, exactly what she wanted us to have of her,
honed to an essence. I find her remarkable, and in this sense,
living yet today.
Thanks for the bump for her (tap, tap, tap)