human
And burdened in the noontide sun, The grateful shade of home forego-- Could he be right--I ask as one Who fain would know?
gpt
Therefore the man who, dreaming, cried Against his lot that even-song, I judge him honest, and decide That he was wrong.
human
When I am judged, ah may my fate, He whispered,
gpt
This friend, you ever think her right-- She is not wrong, then? Soft and low The little trembling word took flight: She answered,
human
No.