John Greenleaf Whittier: Selected Poems: (American Poets Project #10)

... believe it or not, when I read him in sixth or seventh grade, even despite the fact that I had to memorize Barbara Fritchie for homework. Many, many years later, I'm still impressed by the character of the man himself, an ardent abolitionist and yet a forgiving human. He wasn't such a Promethean poet, and his works won't stand comparison with Whitman's or Melville's, but the poems I read as a kid still ring like music to me when I dredge them up. Here, from memory, is my favorite: BARBARA FRITCHIE 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 Fritchie 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 Fritchie'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!

I remember reading in school ' Snowbound' and ' Barefoot boy'( Barefoot boy with cheek of tan) and 'Barbara Freitchie (Shoot if you must this old grey head, but spare your country's flag, ' she said). These poems provided pictures of American life, pictures of a moral and somehow innocent world. That lines of these poems remain with me mean the poems live for me. Whittier is not a great poet but he is a sincere and strong representative of his own time and world. Whether in his opposition to slavery or his defending of a simple kind of American courage he speaks to the moral sense, the sense of something higher in us.