The Woods Shake In An Ague-Fit

The woods shake in an ague-fit, The mad wind rocks the pine, From sea to sea the white gulls flit Into the roaring brine. The moon as if in panic grief Darts through the clouds on high, Blown like a wild autumnal leaf Across the wilder sky. The gusty rain is driving fast, And through the rain we hear, Above the equinoctial blast, The thunder of the Weir. The voices of the wind and rain Wail echoing through my heart-- That love is ever dogged by pain And fondest souls must part. You made heart's summer, O my friend, But now we bid adieu, There will be winter without end And tears for ever new.