Kind

When I think of my kindness which is tentative and quiet And of yours which is intense and free, I am in elaboration of knowledge impatient Of even the patientest immobility. I think of my kind, which is the human fortune To live in the world and make war among its friends, And of my version, which is to be moderately peaceful, And of your version; and must make amends By my slow word to your wish which is mobile, Active and moving in its generous sphere. This is the natural and the supernatural Of humankind of which I grow aware.