Year: 1875

u
Who remembers that famous day and year:
He said to a friend, ''lf the British march
Bv land or sea from the town to- night,
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch
OF the North Church tower as a signal light -
One, if by land, and two, if ny sea;
And on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middiesex village and farm,
For the county folk to be up and to arm."
Then he said "Good night |" and with muffied
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where, swinging wide at her moorings, lay
A. phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like prison Tar,
And the huge black hulk, that was magnified
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 him he hears
The muster Of men at the barrack door,
The sound of arms, and tramp Of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadierS.
Marching down to the boats on tue shore.
when he climbed the tower Of old North
Bv the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belirv chamber overhead,


And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre ratters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes Of shade
By the trembling ladder, steep aud tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the ,ots 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 sentinel's tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, eau is well |"
A moment only 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 awav,
Where the river widens to meet the bay
A 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 side walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horses side,,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous stamped the earth.
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of old North Church.
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still,
And ~ as he looks on the belfry's- height
A glimmer, and then a CLEAN of light
He springs to the saddle, the bride he turns,
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, a


spark


Struck out by steed running fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and
The fate of nation was riding that night;
And the spark struck out by that steed in his


flight,


Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And benea'h him, tranquil, and bread, and


Deep, -:
Is 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.
It 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 tie sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And in the meeting house windows, blank and
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
AS if they already stood agnast
AT the bloody work they would look upon.
= was two by the village clock,
When ne came to the bridge in Concord town.
He heard the bleating of the flock,
And the twitter Of the birds among the trees,
And telt the bre .th of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
and one wos sale and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would he first to fall,
Who that day would he lyi.g dead,
Pierced by British musket ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have


read,


How the British regulars fired and fled
How the farmers gave them ball for ball.
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chaslng the redcoats down the lane,
anen 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;
ana A. SO th,S9gh the night went his cry OF alarm
A cry OF defence and not OF fear,
AVolce Ill the darkness, a knock at the door,
ana word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night, wind of the past. =.
through all our history to the last,
ID Il, hour of darkness and peril and need,
Ine people will waken and listen to hear
me hurrying hoof- beats Of that steed,a
And the midnight message Of Paul Revere


the univ lawn