I
The Delaware above the Rift
Each bank is fast o'erflowing,
And sweeping onward dark and swift,
Wild and still wilder growing
It hurls a heavy raft along
Upon its rocking way,
While the Captain's call the hills prolong
At dawning of the day:
Pull, lads, pull!--to Jersey side,
The Rift is near!
Pull, lads, pull!--for the high floods hide
The ragged rocks like an ocean tide,
And the river's rush I hear.