From whose floor the new-bathed stars / Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.

The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea.

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits;- on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The

Yeah we all shine on, like the moon, and the stars, and the sun.

Continuous as the stars that shine/ And twinkle on the milky way.