Ah! tell me not of the heights sublime,
The rocks at Harper’s ferry,
Of mountains rent in the lapse of time—
They’re very beautiful—very!
I’m thinking more of the glowing cheek
Of a lovely girl and merry,
Who climb’d with me to yon highest peak—
The girl of Harper’s ferry.
She sailed with me o’er the glassy wave
In yonder trim-built wherry;
Shall I ever forget the looks she gave
Or the voice which rang so merry?
To the joy she felt, her lips gave birth—
Lips, red as the ripest cherry—
I saw not Heaven above, nor Earth—
Sweet girl of Harper’s ferry!
We clamber’d away over crag and hill
Through places dark and dreary;
We stooped to drink of the sparkling rill
And gather the blushing berry;
Dame Nature may sunder the Earth by storms
And rocks upon rocks may serry,
But I like her more in her fragile forms,
My girl of Harper’s ferry.
I followed her up the “_steps of stone_”
To where the dead they bury;
On Jefferson’s rock she stood alone,
Looking on Harper’s ferry—
But I, like Cymon, the gaping clown,
Stood, lost in a deep quandary,
Nor thought of the river, the rock, the town,
Dear girl of Harper’s ferry.
She carv’d her name on the well known rock,
The rock at Harper’s ferry;
You would not have thought me a stone or stock
Bending o’er charming Mary—
Insensible rock! how hard thou wert
Hurting her fingers fairy,
Deeper she writ upon my soft heart—
The girl of Harper’s ferry.
Ye who shall visit this scene again,
This rock at Harper’s ferry,
Come pledge me high in the brisk Champaigne
Or a glass of the palest Sherry—
And this is the name which ye shall quaff,
The name of Mary Perry!
She’s fairer than all your loves by half—
The girl of Harper’s ferry.
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