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The Prophet The Prophet, by D.H. Lawrence 09-01-2005
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| AH, my darling, when over the purple horizon shall loom | |
| The shrouded mother of a new idea, men hide their faces, | |
| Cry out and fend her off, as she seeks her procreant groom, | |
| Wounding themselves against her, denying her fecund embraces. | |
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