A WOMAN'S TRUST

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!