The New House
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 learnt how the wind would sound After these things should be.
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|Author||Thomas, Edward (1878-1917)|
|Title||The New House|
|Copyright||Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd.|
|First line||Now first, as I shut the door,|
|Publication source||Edward Thomas Collected Poems|
|Publication editor||Thomas, George|
|Publishers||Faber and Faber|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|