Classic Poem

The love of parents hath a deep still source;
And falleth like a flood upon their child.
Sometimes the child is grateful: then his love
Comes like the spray returning.—In this case,
A father, full of truth, has checked his son;
Harshly perhaps; for many a benefit
Puts on the vizor of a stern reproof:
But, oh! within, (as roughest rinds conceal
The tenderest kernels,) gentle thoughts abide:
Sweet meanings; seeds that, if the soil be sure,
Will bring forth fruits of wisdom.