Barbara Frietchie
Poemby John G. Whittier
Volume: 10 | Page: 305
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Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
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Content
Reading ModePfrom the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,
Fair as a garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain wall
BARBARA FRIETCHIE
Over the mountains, winding down,
Horse and foot into Frederick town.
Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind; the sun Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the menhauled down;
In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouch hat left and right He glanced: the old flag met his sight.
"Halt! "-the dust-brown ranks stood fast;
"Fire!"-out blazed the rifle-blast.
It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
BARBARA FRIETCHIE
She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
"Shoot, if you must, this old grayhead,
But spare your country's flag," she said.
Ashade of sadness, ablush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word:
"Who touches ahair of yon grayhead Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.
All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet ;
All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever its torn folds rose and fell
Onthe loyal winds that loved it well;
And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with awarm good-night.
Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
And the rebel rides on his raids no mora
Honor to her! and let a tear
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.
SHERIDAN'S RIDE
Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
Flag of freedom and union wave!
Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;
And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town.
i
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