BARBARA FRIETCHIE

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

[Sidebar: Sept. 6, 1862]

_ These lines were suggested by a newspaper paragraph which lacked foundation in fact._

Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn.

The cl.u.s.tered 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,--

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 men hauled 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 slouched 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed the silken scarf;

She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will.

"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said.

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came;

The n.o.bler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word:

"Who touches a hair of yon gray head 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 On the loyal winds that loved it well;

And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night.

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

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!

FREDERICKSBURG

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH

[Sidenote: Dec. 13, 1862]

The increasing moonlight drifts across my bed, And on the churchyard by the road, I know It falls as white and noiselessly as snow.

'Twas such a night two weary summers fled; The stars, as now, were waning overhead.

Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow Where the swift currents of the river flow Past Fredericksburg: far off the heavens are red With sudden conflagration: on yon height, Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath: A signal-rocket pierces the dense night, Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath: Hark!--the artillery ma.s.sing on the right, Hark!--the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!

MUSIC IN CAMP

JOHN R. THOMPSON

[Sidenote: Dec. 15-31, 1862]

Two armies covered hill and plain Where Rappahannock's waters Ran deeply crimsoned with the stain Of battle's recent slaughters.

The summer clouds lay pitched like tents In meads of heavenly azure; And each dread gun of the elements Slept in its hid embrasure.

The breeze so softly blew, it made No forest leaf to quiver, And the smoke of the random cannonade Rolled slowly from the river.