{"id":654,"date":"2013-06-16T16:53:29","date_gmt":"2013-06-16T23:53:29","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/?p=654"},"modified":"2022-01-28T10:18:43","modified_gmt":"2022-01-28T18:18:43","slug":"0616","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/2013\/06\/16\/0616\/","title":{"rendered":"0616"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone\" src=\"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/images\/062013\/0616.jpg\" \/><\/p>\n<p>0616<br \/>\nHappy Father&#8217;s Day too<\/p>\n<p><strong>Oh, Call it by some better name<\/strong><br \/>\nBy Thomas Moore<\/p>\n<p>Oh, call it by some better name,<br \/>\nFor Friendship sounds too cold,<br \/>\nWhile Love is now a worldly flame,<br \/>\nWhose shrine must be of gold:<br \/>\nAnd Passion, like the sun at noon,<br \/>\nThat burns o&#8217;er all he sees,<br \/>\nAwhile as warm will set as soon&#8211;<br \/>\nThen call it none of these.<\/p>\n<p>Imagine something purer far,<br \/>\nMore free from stain of clay<br \/>\nThan Friendship, Love, or Passion are,<br \/>\nYet human, still as they:<br \/>\nAnd if thy lip, for love like this,<br \/>\nNo mortal word can frame,<br \/>\nGo, ask of angels what it is,<br \/>\nAnd call it by that name!<\/p>\n<button id=\"listenButton1\" class=\"responsivevoice-button\" type=\"button\" value=\"Play\" title=\"ResponsiveVoice Tap to Start\/Stop Speech\"><span>&#128266; Listen to Poem<\/span><\/button>\n        <script>\n            listenButton1.onclick = function(){\n                if(responsiveVoice.isPlaying()){\n                    responsiveVoice.cancel();\n                }else{\n                    responsiveVoice.speak(\"0616 Happy Father\\'s Day too Oh, Call it by some better name By Thomas Moore Oh, call it by some better name, For Friendship sounds too cold, While Love is now a worldly flame, Whose shrine must be of gold: And Passion, like the sun at noon, That burns o\\'er all he sees, Awhile as warm will set as soon-- Then call it none of these. Imagine something purer far, More free from stain of clay Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are, Yet human, still as they: And if thy lip, for love like this, No mortal word can frame, Go, ask of angels what it is, And call it by that name!\", \"UK English Male\");\n                }\n            };\n        <\/script>\n    \n\n<div class=\"twitter-share\"><a href=\"https:\/\/twitter.com\/intent\/tweet?via=stickpersonpoet\" class=\"twitter-share-button\">Tweet<\/a><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>0616 Happy Father&#8217;s Day too Oh, Call it by some better name By Thomas Moore Oh, call it by some better name, For Friendship sounds too cold, While Love is now a worldly flame, Whose shrine must be of gold: And Passion, like the sun at noon, That burns o&#8217;er all he sees, Awhile as &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/2013\/06\/16\/0616\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading <span class=\"screen-reader-text\">0616<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[39,77,133],"class_list":["post-654","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-classic","tag-holidays","tag-love","tag-sun"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/654"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=654"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/654\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":655,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/654\/revisions\/655"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=654"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=654"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stickpersonpoetry.com\/spp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=654"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}