Customer Reviews

John Greenleaf Whittier: Selected Poems (American Poets Project)

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(0)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

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.

This is yet another edition and addition by the American Poets Project, probably one of my favorite publishing events in the past twenty or so years. This project's stated goal is:

"The American Poets Project offers, for the first time in our history, a compact national library of American poetry. Selected and introduced by distinguished poets and scholars, elegant in design and textually authoritative, the series, published by the award winning Library of America, makes widely available the full scope of our poetic heritage."

I tell you folks, you cannot get more worthy than that! So far, if I read their website correctly, they have published over thirty books in this series and seem to be going strong. You can subscribe to this series (at a very reasonable cost) and I certainly would encourage anyone interested to do so. Myself, I am of the age and of reduced circumstances where I have trouble justifying any long term book buying project and in this day and time need my money for little things like food, but fortunately our local library stocks these books, so I check them out there; quite frequently, as a matter of fact.

John Greenleaf Whittier, what to say, what to say? I dare speculate that any person over the age of fifty who was raised and educated in America has much to offer on the subject. like another reviewer here, I was introduced to Whittier in the 6th grade (well, actually much sooner than that, as my mom was a big Whittier fan and read to my sister and I constantly), and like other reviewers here, certainly memorized my share of this poets work. I am not sure, but I do not think they require that in our schools these days, which is sort of a pity I suppose.

Anyway, is Whittier the best of our American poets? Well, in my opinion, no. Is he one of the most beloved and well known? You bet he is. Is he worth reading still? Well of course. Whittier was a good man and the courage he showed during the abolitionist movement can be a lesson for us all. The man had grit and the man had a voice and he used both quite effectively. We should all have such character!

Now as to the use of this poet's poems in school; for the younger children...I truly feel that we of a past generation were quite possibly exposed to this poet's writing a bit early in our lives. For most people, and I realize there are exceptions, to fully understand the work being presented here, they need a few more years under their belts and a few more life experiences. Yes, I memorized the lines, read the work, listened t the work, but it was not until I was much older that I fully realized what the work consisted of; Which brings me to the point I am trying to make, which is the fact that even though you think you know Whittier because you read him as a child, you probably don't, and as an adult, you need to go back and give him another look and read. You will be absolutely amazed to find what you find.

The introduction to this volume is written by Brenda Wineapple and is absolutely delightful and informative. Unlike other introducers and editors of a few others in this series, Ms. Wineapple has written at a level all can understand; there are no pretenses with this lady...she says it the way it is. I like that.

Great little volume among quite a number of wonderful little volumes in a wonderful series and I certainly recommend this one for anyone near my age as there is a great nostalgic trip to be had here.

Don Blankenship
The Ozarks

... 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!