On the scaffold, mother and child remain.
What the people saw or what they shall say,
Nothing could hurt more than that Scarlet A.
And to God, she revealed upon her breast,
Love, Passion, Affection, her humble nest.
Though brought by sin, the daughter was conceived,
Became her life, her soul, Hester believed.
Scarlet letter worn to the end of her path,
Repentance followed her upon His wrath,
No candle could shine in her lonely heart,
Her loverís warmth, only too far apart.
Luscious strands of hair, caught up in the wind,
Lasted a moment, then wrapped up and pinned.
Memories of Chillingworth haunt her past,
But her lover, in forest, waits at last.