David Herbert Lawrence - The Prophet

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.

David Herbert Lawrence

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-prophet-4/