human
Can you write me a poem about artic sea, spring and hoop?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about artic sea, spring and hoop:
  Of the Artic sea,
He lives on the ice,
Where the winds blow free.
In early spring,
How sweet his songs
Through the forest ring.
On the Andes' height,
He plumes his wings
For a lofty flight.
Of the canvas back sort;
To shoot at a flock
Is considered fine sport.
So bold and so free;
On the flag of our country
He spans land sea.
Who lives on the shore:
He catches his prey
Mid the ocean's roar.
His feathers we take
And put them in sacking
Our beds to make.
Sporting mid flowers
And brightly enjoying
The sunny hours.
Who wanders in bogs,
And lives upon lizards,
And fishes and frogs.
With his blue and white coat,
With a crest on his head,
And a ring round his throat.
Pugnacious and bold:
A hero in fight,
And a terrible scold.
A sociable bird;
His song in the meadow
Is frequently heard.
He lives at the west,
Steals and scolds and eats carrion;
He's none of the best.
Of fishes quite fond;
He looks for them now,
As he stands by the pond.
Who hides through the day;
And comes out at night,
To seek for his prey.
So rapid in flight,
That before you can shoot him
He's gone out of sight.
Who hides in a tree,
And whistles "Bob-White"
With lively glee.
So kind and so good,
Who covered with leaves,
The poor Babes in the Wood.
She darts through the air
To catch little insects,
Her favorite fare.
A fine dashing beau,
By his fuming and strutting,
His pride you may know.
Or Hoopoe. His crest
He can raise up or lower,
As suits him best.
Who feeds on the dead,
When the dark battle-field,
With corpses is spread.
Who with his long bill,
Bores holes in a tree,
And of worms eats his fill.
Oft in our orchards,
His music is heard.
With feathers so bright,
Who sings all the day,
And sleeps all the night.
Z stands for none
Of the feathered race.
It must serve as a roost,
Or lose the last place.