I fled the booth with feelings as of Cain, <br />Yet laughing at my own bewilderment. <br />My cheeks had blushed till it was physical pain, <br />And my eyes smarted. Through my head there went <br />The little woman's last appealing word <br />Bidding me stop, in tones that smote afresh. <br />And 'twixt my finger and thumb there throbbed and stirred <br />The semblance of that monstrous pound of flesh, <br />The knee that I had handled. With it too <br />The jet beads of the little woman's skirt, <br />Where I had held her, left an impress new <br />And touched my conscience to a deeper hurt. <br />I was ashamed of all with shame intense, <br />My youth, my frailty, and my innocence.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/esther-a-sonnet-sequence-xix/
