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,