Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/339

279 XVII.

their floating Mill,

Which lies dead and still,

Behold yon Prisoners three!

The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames;

The Platform is small, but there's room for them all;

And they're dancing merrily.

From the shore come the notes

To their Mill where it floats,

To their House and their Mill tethered fast;

To the small wooden Isle where their work to beguile

They from morning to even take whatever is given;—

And many a blithe day they have past.

In sight of the Spires

All alive with the fires

Of the Sun going down to his rest,

In the broad open eye of the solitary sky,

They dance,—there are three, as jocund as free,

While they dance on the calm river's breast.