The afternoon was beautiful, White clouds were on the hill, Until I saw some little boys Entering a mill. And then, I saw but waiting shrouds Where the white clouds had been; I rubbed a blood stain off my hands, Only to rub it in. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 9. VILLA SEBELLONI, BELLAGGIO by SARA TEASDALE CONSECRATION HYMN by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL GLADYS AND HER ISLAND; AN IMPERFECT TALE WITH DOUBTFUL MORAL by JEAN INGELOW THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by SAMUEL ROGERS SONNET: 30 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AN HYMN OF HEAVENLY LOVE by EDMUND SPENSER |