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
Nights of storm, days of mist, without end;
Sad days when the sun
Shone in vain: old griefs
Not yet begun.
All was foretold me; naught
Could I foresee;
But I learnd how the wind would sound
things should be.
Yes. I remember Adlestrop
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train
drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissd. Some one cleard his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare
platform. What I saw
Was Adlestroponly the name
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still
and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.
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