Tuesday, August 21, 2018

O Death, where is thy sting? / Sir Ronald Ross

This day relenting God
Hath placed within my hand
A wondrous thing; and God
Be praised. At His command,
Seeking His secret deeds
With tears and toiling breath,
I find thy cunning seeds,
O million-murdering Death.
I know this little thing
A myriad men will save.
O Death, where is thy sting?
Thy victory, O Grave?


(Note: Sir Ronald Ross, humbled and inspired by his discovery of Malarial vector mosquito,  sent this poem to his wife a couple of days later. Ross was honoured with the Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine in 1902 for this work.)

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