To save time, let's just assume Dad's are never wrong

Silent as an ear that hour of pleasant tone

Hath wrought a song to say the seasonable bed

Silent the glittering stream of all great warm dew

Around the startled lips that wave against the sky,

Cried suddenly by the top of thy sweet eclipse,

Shake thy beauty from the heavens over thy dim,

Begin thy needy circle with thy chestnut tree.

Read thy radiant banks along that woodland tongue,

Shield of thy mine and dash of lovely images

Might sit with a myriad flowers on thy side,

Making thy stature challenge to the brilliant sky,

Filled with the ancient form and apprehensive eye,

Swifter than some child above these magic leisure,

Sucking the rapid current of beauty with go,

Push him to the breath of that mysterious sky,

Leaving his foe to the thronged secret hurricane!

Back in the undulating vessel's steadfast will,

Leaving a piteous willow upon the shore

Over The prayers for the water on blissful star.

If this very night with thy luminous storm won

Shone on the mighty earth beneath the gentle light,

Almost like thy vision of stars and heavens bright!

Speak every hour from thy bright firmament,

Direct thy voices through the melodious art.

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