This ivory bird beguiling my sad face into smiling , By the brave and proud decorum of the countenance it wore . “ Be thou small , and white , and feathered , I can see your spirits weathered , And I recognize this messenger From the Crimean war . And the bird began unfolding tales of nursing lore .
It perched itself on my windowsill , And turned its beak to the night air ’ s chill “ Young nurse , your sorrow is unfounded , As you study Theory Grounded . Don ’ t let such concepts pass you by , So many phenomena shall keep you asking why ? You see what you expect to see , and fail to use your senses , Tune into your intuition and be open to both sides of the fences .
For understanding grows from multiple perspectives , Reflect on how you thought before , And shift that paradigm forever more .
Knowledge is the prize we seek , Though many have traditionally seen us women as weak . Have faith in the nurses that came before you , Their findings , in practice , will clearly ring true . Let nursing ’ s knowledge be your own , And pride yourself in what you know .” Quoth the Nightingale , forevermore .
“ Let not other ’ s bias get in the way , They may not expect to hear what you have to say . Use the tools you have for solving problems And to critically think , And you may find that your ideas reveal the missing link . With these tools as your wings you will soar , And find success , forevermore .
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