human
Dermot, darling, Oh, come back to me!
gpt
And while they are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me! And say thou would'st rather They'd watch o'er thy father, For I know that the angels are whispering to thee.
human
I knew that the angels were whispering to thee.
gpt
Where do the stars grow, little Garaine? The garden of moons is it far away? The orchard of suns, my little Garaine, Will you take us there some day?