Thomas Hardy — A woman’s trust

If he should live a thousand years        &nbsp He’d find it not again        &nbsp 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        &nbsp He’d find it not again. She waited like a little child,        &nbsp Unchilled by damps of doubt,        &nbsp 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        &nbsp Unchilled by damps of doubt. Through cruel years and crueller        &nbsp Thus she believed in him        &nbsp 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        &nbsp Thus she believed in him!