. Book of the Royal blue . g rill And gather the blushing 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 Harpers Ferry. I followed her up the Steps of Stone To where the dead they bury,On Jeffersons Rock she stood alone, Looking at Harpers I, like Cymen the gaping clown. Stood lost in a deep thought of the river, the rock, the town. Dear girl of Harpers Ferry. She carved her name on the well-known rock. The rock at Harpers Ferry;You would not have thought me a stone or stock. Bending o
. Book of the Royal blue . g rill And gather the blushing 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 Harpers Ferry. I followed her up the Steps of Stone To where the dead they bury,On Jeffersons Rock she stood alone, Looking at Harpers I, like Cymen the gaping clown. Stood lost in a deep thought of the river, the rock, the town. Dear girl of Harpers Ferry. She carved her name on the well-known rock. The rock at Harpers Ferry;You would not have thought me a stone or stock. Bending oer charming rock how hard thou wert. Hurting her fingers fairy;Deeper she writ upon my soft heart, The girl of Harpers Ferry. Ye who shall visit this scene again, This rock at Harpers Ferry,Come pledge me high in the brisk champagne Or a glass of the palest sherry;And this is the name which ye shallquaff— The name of Mary Perry:Shes fairer than all your loves by half. The girl of Harpers Ferry. •^. <. THE LEGEND OF ISLAND PARK. IIY MISS JBNNIE CHAMBERS. ALONG time ago. on the nld hills andmountains surroundinii Harpers Ferry,there were no houses, no beautifulyards and gardens tracing the marks ofcivilization and refinement. .Eolus tunedhis harp and played among the branches ofthe great oaks and pine trees, whose denseshade covered a safe retreat from the fierceeye of the savage for the panting deer, andwild beasts, who were so often the victimsof the chase. .d while meditating on these things wetremble at the rustle of a leaf, fearingthat the spirit of some shadowing formmay be lurking near, and we turn in thetwilight expectantly, to catch a glancefrom the dusky faces peering at us frombehind the rocks, for dearer to him thanlife were these hunting grounds to thepoor Indian. Here in imagination we seethe Indian maiden chasing the gazelle fromcliff to cliff, while the fierce cry of the eagle
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