human
My foes are piqued, I must suppose, But cannot see their way to a 'Cry.' (So mused the man with the Semite nose, As up the backwater he swept.)
gpt
What I like (said he)
human
clear and bold (As when a party-procession rejoice With drums, and trumpets, and with banners of gold), Until the Canoeist's blood ran cold, And over his paddle he crouched and rolled; And he wished himself from that nook afar (If it were but reading the evening star): And the Swan he ruffled his plumes and hissed, And with sounding buffets, which seldom missed, He walloped into that paddler gay (Bent on enjoying his holiday). He smote him here, and he spanked him there, Upset his
gpt
rumpled his hair.
human
I'll teach you, he cried, with pounding pinions,
gpt
To come intruding in _my_ dominions!