Ah, my darling, when over the purple horizon shall loom <br />The shrouded mother of a new idea, men hide their faces, <br />Cry out and fend her off, as she seeks her procreant groom, <br />Wounding themselves against her, denying her fecund embraces.<br /><br />David Herbert Lawrence<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-prophet-4/
