BY their floating mill, <br />That lies dead and still, <br />Behold yon Prisoners three, <br />The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames! <br />The platform is small, but gives room for them all; <br />And they're dancing merrily. <br /> <br />From the shore come the notes <br />To their mill where it floats, <br />To their house and their mill tethered fast: <br />To the small wooden isle where, their work to beguile, <br />They from morning to even take whatever is given;-- <br />And many a blithe day they have past. <br /> <br />In sight of the spires, <br />All alive with the fires <br />Of the sun going down to his rest, <br />In the broad open eye of the solitary sky, <br />They dance,--there are three, as jocund as free, <br />While they dance on the calm river's breast. <br /> <br />Man and Maidens wheel, <br />They themselves make the reel, <br />And their music's a prey which they seize; <br />It plays not for them,--what matter? 'tis theirs; <br />And if they had care, it has scattered their cares, <br />While they dance, crying, 'Long as ye please!' <br /> <br />They dance not for me, <br />Yet mine is their glee! <br />Thus pleasure is spread through the earth <br />In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find; <br />Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind, <br />Moves all nature to gladness and mirth. <br /> <br />The showers of the spring <br />Rouse the birds, and they sing; <br />If the wind do but stir for his proper delight, <br />Each leaf, that and this, his neighbour will kiss; <br />Each wave, one and t' other, speeds after his brother: <br />They are happy, for that is their right!<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stray-pleasures/
