I was a comely damsel
Made of fragile fair clay,
Pregnant with unhatched rebellion,
Beclouded with the mist of youthhood,
And on the broad path
Dreaming of butterflies.
I heard a still voice calling;
It was the Prince of Peace,
Oh, how sweet the sound!
So I followed closely.
But the sword in his mouth
Pierced my flesh and bones,
Caused my timely abortion,
And shaped me into...
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