Her Kindness

For ev’ry stray and vagrant word I say

that falls so careless on a roving ear,

I might have one upon my lips to stay,

a steadfast, feal, and tender name held near.

For friend I would have, “Love,” and She is all.

To know Her is to fall upon Her grace.

She does not know offense. She comes to call

on strength and weakness, each one in its place.

Her fortitude observes no effort spent

in Her attempt to bandage ev’ry scrape

some call, “Naïve,” but rather should, “Hellbent,”

in saving naïve ape from selfsame ape.

“Money,” “Fame,” and “War”–I do not know them.

Her kindness is the object of the poem.