Re: 20 Pounder Ammunition
- --- In TalkAntietam@yahoogroups.com, "Thomas Clemens" <clemenst@...> wrote:
> It sounds like you're doing good work, and I hope you'll share it with us when you're
Thank you and certainly. The OOB work has come a long way and I have some remaining
loose ends to tie up.
Tracking down all the elements of Pleasonton's Cav Division was a real joy. Let's just say for
the moment that the organization in the OR does not reflect the units present on the field
- Dear Paula,
Blame it on Yahell...............
Yr. Obt. Svt.
G E "Gerry" Mayers
To Be A Virginian, either by birth, marriage, adoption, or even
on one's mother's side, is an introduction to any state in the
Union, a passport to any foreign country, and a benediction from
the Almighty God. --Anonymous
----- Original Message -----
Sent: Tuesday, February 05, 2008 4:07 PM
Subject: Re: [TalkAntietam] Barbara Frietchie - Is it real or a
Ok, where was this?? I mailed this out DAYS
Just so you guys don't think I am losing this - if you recall
when this posted originally, I stated it was a duplicate. So
this is the original - so where has it been?
That is a rhetorical question BTW.
-------------- Original message --------------
> This topic comes up from time to time on various lists that I
> belong to. I
> think part of the myth has been fueled by this poem by
> Whittier(and of course I
> am going to post it here to add even more fuel to the fire! )
> Barbara Frietchie
> John Greenleaf Whittier
> 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,
> Apple and peach tree fruited deep,
> Fair as the 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 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,
> 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;
> “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!
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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