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Re: [TalkAntietam] Barbara Frietchie - Is it real or a nice story?

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  • G E Mayers
    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
    Message 1 of 57 , Feb 5, 2008
      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 -----
      From: <128thpa@...>
      To: <TalkAntietam@yahoogroups.com>
      Sent: Tuesday, February 05, 2008 4:07 PM
      Subject: Re: [TalkAntietam] Barbara Frietchie - Is it real or a
      nice story?


      Ok, where was this?? I mailed this out DAYS
      AGO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

      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.

      Paula

      -------------- Original message --------------
      From: 128thpa@...

      > 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! )
      > Paula
      >
      > 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]
      >
      >
      >
      >
      >
      > Yahoo! Groups Links
      >
      >
      >

      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]





      Yahoo! Groups Links
    • G E Mayers
      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
      Message 57 of 57 , Feb 5, 2008
        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 -----
        From: <128thpa@...>
        To: <TalkAntietam@yahoogroups.com>
        Sent: Tuesday, February 05, 2008 4:07 PM
        Subject: Re: [TalkAntietam] Barbara Frietchie - Is it real or a
        nice story?


        Ok, where was this?? I mailed this out DAYS
        AGO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

        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.

        Paula

        -------------- Original message --------------
        From: 128thpa@...

        > 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! )
        > Paula
        >
        > 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]
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        > Yahoo! Groups Links
        >
        >
        >

        [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]





        Yahoo! Groups Links
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