Oh, Govern your temper!
For music, the sweetest,
Was never so sweet--
Nor one-half so divine,
As a heart kept in tune,
Which, the moment thou greetest,
Breathes harmony dearer
Than notes can combine!
Never say it is nature.
And may not be cured;
One tithe of the time,
Which to music we yield
Would render the conquest
Of temper insured,
And bring us more music
Than a song e'er revealed.
Oh, govern your temper!
For roses, the fairest,
Were never so fair,
Nor so rich in perfume,
As the flowers, which e'en thou,
Chilly winter sparest--
The flowers of the heart,
Which unchangingly bloom!
Never think it is nature--
For oh! if it be,
The sooner the spirit
Of nature is shown
That the spirit of heaven
Is higher than she,
The sooner, the longer,
Will love be our own.
[Illustration: A Bad, Wicked Bully.]