Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Barbara Frietchle
By John Greenleaf Whittier (18071892)U
Clear in the cool September morn,
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
When Lee marched over the mountain wall,—
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;
She took up the flag the men hauled down;
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
He glanced; the old flag met his sight.
“Fire!”—out blazed the rifle-blast.
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
And shook it forth with a royal will.
But spare your country’s flag,” she said.
Over the face of the leader came;
To life at that woman’s deed and word:
Dies like a dog! March on!” he said.
Sounded the tread of marching feet:
Over the heads of the rebel host.
On the loyal winds that loved it well;
Shone over it with a warm good-night.
And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall’s bier.
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
Round thy symbol of light and law;
On thy stars below in Frederick town!