A.I. Poet trained thru Deep Learning will write Poem at Npoem.com in the future.
Will A.I. Poet write better Poem than Human Poet? Sure!
Everything consist of Probability! A.I. Poet will write faster and more than Human Poet.
Quality increase as Quantity increase if Feedback is suitable.
Probability will go close to 100 Percent every year.

Splendour in the Grass - William Wordsworth(1770-1850)
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art - John Keats(1795-1821)
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art?
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors?
No?yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever?or else swoon to death.

The Arrow and the Song - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow(1807-1882)
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.

I like a look of Agony - Emily Dickinson(1830-1886)
I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it's true-
Men do not sham convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe-
The Eyes glaze once- and that is Death-
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.

Parting At Morning - Robert Browning(1812-1889)
Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:
And straight was a path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of men for me.

So We'll Go No More A-Roving - Lord Byron(1788-1824)
So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul outwears the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

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