The New House

by Edward Thomas

 

Now first, as I shut the door,
     I was alone
In the new house ; and the wind
     Began to moan.
 
Old at once was the house,
     And I was old ;
My ears were teased with the dread
     Of what was foretold,
 
Nights of storm, days of mist, without end ;
     Sad days when the sun
Shone in vain : old griefs and griefs
     Not yet begun.
 
All was foretold me ; naught
     Could I foresee ;
But I learned how the wind would sound
     After these things should be.
 
Edward Thomas | Classic Poems
 

[ Adlestrop ] [ In Memoriam (Easter, 1915) ] [ Lights Out ] [ Out in the Dark ] [ The New House ] [ The Owl ]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 


 

 

 
 
 
 

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