"The New House" by Edward Thomas

Edward Hopper. "House by the Railroad." 1925

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.