| UP from 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, | 5 |
| 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,— | 10 |
| |
| 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 | 15 |
| 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; | 20 |
| |
| 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 | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| |
| Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff | |
| Dame Barbara snatched 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, | 35 |
| But spare your country's flag," she said. | |
| |
| A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, | |
| Over the face of the leader came; | |
| |
| The nobler nature within him stirred | |
| To life at that woman's deed and word: | 40 |
| |
| "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 | 45 |
| 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. | 50 |
| |
| 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, | 55 |
| 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! | 60 |
