Poem by Charles Lamb

Good Temper

In whatsoever place resides
Good Temper, she o'er all presides;
The most obdurate heart she guides.

Even Anger yields unto her power,
And sullen Spite forgets to lower,
Or reconcilëd weeps a shower;

Reserve she softens into Ease,
Makes Fretfulness leave off to tease,
She Waywardness itself can please.

Her handmaids they are not a few:
Sincerity that's ever true,
And prompt Obedience always new,

Urbanity that ever smiles,
And Frankness that ne'er useth wiles,
And Friendliness that ne'er beguiles,

And Firmness that is always ready
To make young good-resolves more steady,
The only safeguard of the giddy;

And blushing Modesty, and sweet
Humility in fashion neat;
Yet still her train is incomplete,

Unless meek Piety attend
Good Temper as her surest friend,
Abiding with her to the end.

1. A Timid Grace Sits Trembling in Her Eye
2. Incorrect Speaking
3. Blindness
4. Home Delights
5. Written Christmas Day 1797

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