Hannah Mary Thom a Unitarian

In the heart of Liverpool, where the Mersey river flows,

A tale of a lady, with a heart as the reddest rose.

Her name was Hannah Mary Thom, of the Rathbone clan,

Whose deeds were hymns of kindness, a divine, eternal psalm.

 

Unitarian in belief, but in love, she knew no bounds,

In the poorest corners of the city, her presence did resound.

A Florence Nightingale of her own, in Liverpool's slums and streets,

Where misery and suffering, she courageously would meet.

 

A lady of the fountain, an angel in disguise,

Her hands brought comfort, in her heart, compassion lies.

Irish souls, plagued by famine, found in her a friend,

Her deeds, a testament of love, that time could never end.

 

Born to riches, schooled in letters, yet she chose a nurse's path,

She saw God's children in each face, felt their joy, their wrath.

With Rev Thom, she walked in faith, amidst the poor and sick,

Her calling wasn't of birth or wealth, but a vocation deep and thick.

 

In the shadow of Nightingale, who nursed in war's grim face,

Hannah Thom served in city slums, with dignity and grace.

Her life, a beacon of love and care, till the age of fifty-five,

A legacy that long outlived her, in Liverpool's heart, alive.

 

The fountain stands as testament, to her selfless, caring deed,

A monument of gratitude, sowed from a loving seed.

Holy Cross parish, remembers well, the lady of their care,

In times of sickness, sorrow, she was always there.

 

Though time brought change and conflict, and controversy did arise,

Her memory remained untarnished, under the Liverpool skies.

Her statue, once a silent altar, in a procession of faith and hope,

Stands now in a garden, a symbol of love's scope.

 

In the quiet of Mazenod Court, under the northern sky,

Her monument unveiled once more, as the years go by.

Hannah Mary Thom, a lady of grace, of Liverpool's beating heart,

Her story sings in every corner, her love, an eternal art.