"I admire good old Barbara Frietchie/ I bet she scratched where she was itchy" -- Ogden Nash · 1:44am Jan 18th, 2021

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 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 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...

“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 tossed
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...

Over Barbara Frietchie’s grave
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!

And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town.

--John Greenleaf Whittier

The actual woman who inspired the poem may have been Mary Quantrell, who lived on Patrick Street,^[6] and who, in a letter to the editor published in The New York Times in February 1869, wrote that her flag, waving from a second-story window, had been ripped down and trampled by Confederate soldiers passing through in 1862, then picked up and held close by her daughter. Further, when Confederate troops moving west from Frederick and passing through Middletown demanded the removal of a Union flag flying from a window in the George Crouse family home, young Nancy Crouse took it down, draped it over her body, and returned to the front door to taunt them, and was not challenged, an act earning her the sobriquet of "the Middletown Maid.”^[7]