human
That, said the comrade at the block in a stage whisper,
gpt
Happy Hollow
human
Stop! he said;
gpt
Not far from turmoil, strife, the mountain-vying waves Of life's antagonisms that delude the world-- Amidst elysian valleys, slopes, majestic hills and caves That mark the path where ages wrought their wrath and hurled The crumbling sinews of the soil down to defeat, To linger in the depth as symbols that all power Is at the will of the Supreme--in this retreat, Filled with the chirping music of the nightly hour, And seeking rest from joyous toil, reward for which Is given by the thought that all is mine, that none Do rob, that love adds to each stroke its rich And sweetening cheer: In such rare world that I have won----
human
You comrades had better eat that poetry for dinner,
gpt
Go on,
human
Wood,
gpt
Ah, exclaimed the poet as he took up the axe,