Classic Poem

The clouds before him rushed, as they
Were racing home to end the day;
The flying hair of the beeches flew
Out to the East as he went through.

Only the hills unshaken stood.
The lake was tossed into a flood;
She flung her curling wavelets hoar
In wrath on the distracted shore.

Which of the elements hath sinned?
What hath angered thee, O wind?
Thou in all the earth dost see
Nought but it enrageth thee!