Father son and the stars

Once a son ask his father
With a voice of sweet bother
What stars are made of?
They like mourning dove
Seeing sun off
And then like lamps
Made of precious gems
Keeps us safe at the night
By thoy golden light
And father than say
Why is they so bright
Just to give you the way
So they made of the love
And of course It's enough
For giving bright light
To another