Summer 1945 • Vol. VII No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 1945 |

Hester Prynne

The scaffold where dishonoured Hester stoodOn Sunday morning, hugging little Pearl,Is down, and no one of that sombre crowdHangs on to boo the bad old girl. Even all those magistrates are goneWho measured out her sin. In Salem nowThe just are just the weekday menToo old and wise to measure out a row. But at that time — yes, the suburbs came;And all the earth (and Hawthorne saw one more)Her punishment and private shameShameful public witness bore. Than this no judgment ever couldDo witness and jury, judge and judged, more good.

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The scaffold where dishonoured Hester stoodOn Sunday morning, hugging little Pearl,Is down, and no one of that sombre crowdHangs on to boo the bad old girl. Even all those magistrates […]

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The scaffold where dishonoured Hester stoodOn Sunday morning, hugging little Pearl,Is down, and no one of that sombre crowdHangs on to boo the bad old girl. Even all those magistrates […]

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