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.
- by Edward Thomas (1878 - 1917), "The new house" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Elaine Hugh-Jones (b. 1927), "The new house", 2003 [voice and piano], from Strange Journey: Songs of Edward Thomas, no. 2. [text not verified]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2012-09-09
Line count: 16
Word count: 85