The Parting

'Twas a fit hour for parting,
  For athwart the leaden sky
  The heavy clouds came gathering
  And sailing gloomily:
  The earth was drunk with heaven's tears,
  And each moaning autumn breeze
  Shook the burthen of its weeping
  Off the overladen trees.
  The waterfall rushed swollen down,
  In the twilight, dim and gray;
  With a foam-wreath on the angry brow
  Of each wave that flashed away.
  My tears were mingling with the rain,
  That fell so cold and fast,
  And my spirit felt thy low deep sigh
  Through the wild and roaring blast.
  The beauty of the summer woods
  Lay rustling round our feet,
  And all fair things had passed away—
  'Twas an hour for parting meet.