Rick Walker

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And forth to meet her went, the way she took That morn when first they parted: by the tree Of knowledge he must pass; there he her met, 850 Scarce from the tree returning; in her hand A bough of fairest fruit, that downy smiled, New gathered, and ambrosial smell diffused. To him she hasted; in her face excuse Came prologue, and apology too prompt;
Paradise Lost
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