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...POOR MAILIE'S ELEGY by ROBERT BURNS NATIONALITY by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS THE TEACHER by LESLIE PINCKNEY HILL IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 43 by ALFRED TENNYSON A SNOWFLAKE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH BEAUTY MAKES US HAPPY by PHILIP AYRES |