Robert Seymour Bridges

Shorter Poems. Book IV. 3. “The Upper Skies Are Palest Blue”

The upper skies are palest blue
Mottled with pearl and fretted snow:
With tattered fleece of inky hue
Close overhead the stormclouds go.

Their shadows fly along the hill
And o’er the crest mount one by one:
The whitened planking of the mill
Is now in shade and now in sun.