This is AI slop, but as slop goes, it is pretty good.
Beneath the moon’s sepulchral gleam,
Where ivy clasped the ancient seam
Of crumbling towers black with age,
There played a most peculiar stage.
The Professor stood in velvet worn,
His coat like midnight overthorn,
His eager hands uplifted high,
His heart laid bare beneath the sky.
“Extropia,” the scholar cried,
“Come leave this lonely parapet side!
The lamps are lit, the violins call,
The world awakes tonight at the ball!
“The nobles whirl in crystal light,
Their laughter rings against the night;
Yet none there shines with half the grace
That dwells within thy thoughtful face.
“Come walk with me through gilded halls,
Past mirrored rooms and marble walls.
Let every duke and dowager see
What wondrous fate has smiled on me!”
Then Extropia, with lowered gaze,
Half hidden in the lunar haze,
Pressed one pale hand upon her breast
As if her soul could find no rest.
Her strange antennae softly burned,
And pale electric currents turned
Between their silver-trembling arc
Like captive lightning in the dark.
She answered not — but seemed instead
To weigh some deeper path ahead;
A future vast beyond the ken
Of ordinary mortal men.
And there sat Spike beside the stair,
In tailored coat and scholarly air,
His spectacles aglow with wit,
Observing all while still as grit.
The dinosaur gave one slow grin,
As though amused deep down within
By human passions, grand declarations,
And moonlit existential persuasions.
For Spike had seen, through ages long,
How every species writes this song:
The plea, the pause, the longing glance,
The ancient gamble called romance.
At last he muttered, dry and low,
“To balls they always wish to go.
Yet whether mammal, bird, or saur,
Courtship remains a tedious war.”
The Professor sighed in sweet despair;
Extropia breathed the midnight air;
And Spike, with ancient reptile eyes,
Looked on beneath the haunted skies.
spikosauropod 
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