The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1875-04-29
PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.
y HENRY wADswoRrH LoNerLLow.

ny HENRY wADswoRTH LoNGFLLow.
listen. nv children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
on the eighteenth day of April in seventy-ive;
Hardly man is now alive
who remembers that famous day and year.
He said to his friend IF the British march
nv land or sea from the town to- night,
Hang lantern aloft in the belly arch
of the North Church tower as a signal Light
One, if by land, and two, if by sea:
And on the opposite shore will be
Ready to ride and spread the alarm Z
Through every Middlesex village and farm
For the country-folk to be up and arm"
Then he said "Good-nightr and with muffied oar
Silently rowed to the Charestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay.
Where, swinging wide at her moorings, lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like prison bar,
And huge black hulk, that was magnifed
BY its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street,
Wanders and watches with eager ears,
Till in the silence around he hears
The muster of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boat on the shore.
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church
BY the wooden stairs with steathy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And started the pigeons from their perch,
On the sombre rafters that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade
BY the trembling ladder steep and tall,
To the highest window i'll the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath in the church yard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the HILL
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like the sentinels tread,
The watchful pight-wind, as it went
dreea5ing along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper s. ALI is WE'LL"
Amoment only he feels the spell
(, Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread
OF the lonely belfry and the dead
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay
line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horses side,
Now he gazed at the landscape far and near
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and frightened his horses girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
AS it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still,
And lc! as he looks, on the belfry's height
"A ghmmer, and then CLEAN of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bride he turns,
But fingers and gazes till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.
A hurry of hoofs in village street,
A shape in the moonlight, bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing,
struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all And yet, through the gloom and the
light
The fate of nation was riding that night
And the spark struck out by that steed in its fight
Kindled the land into fame with its heat
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep
LIS the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
1t was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town;
He heard the growing of the cock
And the barking of the farmers dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog
That rises after the. sun goes down.
1t was by the village clock
When he ganoped into Lexington.
BE saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed.
and the meeting-house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at him with spectral glare,
AS If they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock
When he came to the bridge at Concord town:
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by British musket-ball
You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British regulars fired and fed
How the farmers gave them ball for ball
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.
SO through the night rode Paul Revere
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middesex village and farm
cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And word that shall echo forevermore
For, borne the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats OF that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.