
A woman’s trust Thomas Hardy
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If he should live a thousand years
  He’d find it not again
  That scorn of him by men
Could less disturb a woman’s trust
In him as a steadfast star which must
Rise scathless from the nether spheres:
If he should live a thousand years
  He’d find it not again.
She waited like a little child,
  Unchilled by damps of doubt,
  While from her eyes looked out
A confidence sublime as Spring’s
When stressed by Winter’s loiterings.
Thus, howsoever the wicked wiled,
She waited like a little child
  Unchilled by damps of doubt.
Through cruel years and crueller
  Thus she believed in him
  And his aurore, so dim;
That, after fenweeds, flowers would blow;
And above all things did she show
Her faith in his good faith with her;
Through cruel years and crueller
  Thus she believed in him!
  He’d find it not again
  That scorn of him by men
Could less disturb a woman’s trust
In him as a steadfast star which must
Rise scathless from the nether spheres:
If he should live a thousand years
  He’d find it not again.
She waited like a little child,
  Unchilled by damps of doubt,
  While from her eyes looked out
A confidence sublime as Spring’s
When stressed by Winter’s loiterings.
Thus, howsoever the wicked wiled,
She waited like a little child
  Unchilled by damps of doubt.
Through cruel years and crueller
  Thus she believed in him
  And his aurore, so dim;
That, after fenweeds, flowers would blow;
And above all things did she show
Her faith in his good faith with her;
Through cruel years and crueller
  Thus she believed in him!
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