The Sin Of Detection

SHE bowed her face among them all, as one By one they rose and went. A little scorn They showed—a very little. More forlorn She seemed because of that: she might have grown Proud else in her turn, and have so made known What she well knew—that the free—hearted corn, Kissed by the hot air freely all the morn, Is better than the weed which has its own Foul glut in secret. Both her white breasts heaved Like heaving water with their weight of lace; And her long tresses, full of musk and myrrh, Were shaken from the braids her fingers weaved, So that they hid the shame in her pale face. Then I stept forth, and bowed addressing her.