Edward Thomas (Эдвард Томас)

The New House

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 yest begun.

All was foretold me; naught
Could I foresee;
But I learnt how the wind would sound
After these things should be 

1. The Sheiling
2. The Gallows
3. An Old Song
4. When He Should Laugh
5. November

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1454

Последние стихотворения

To English version