Paul Revere's Ride

6He said to his friend, "If the British march

7By land or sea from the town to-night,

8Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch

9Of the North Church tower as a signal light, —

10One if by land, and two if by sea;

11And I on the opposite shore will be,

12Ready to ride and spread the alarm

13Through every Middlesex village and farm,

14For the country folk to be up and to arm."

15Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar

16Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,

17Just as the moon rose over the bay,

18Where swinging wide at her moorings lay

19The Somerset, British man-of-war;

20A phantom ship, with each mast and spar

21Across the moon like a prison bar,

22And a huge black hulk, that was magnified

23By its own reflection in the tide.

24Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street

25Wanders and watches, with eager ears,

26Till in the silence around him he hears

27The muster of men at the barrack door,

28The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,

29And the measured tread of the grenadiers,

30Marching down to their boats on the shore.

31Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,

32By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,

33To the belfry chamber overhead,

34And startled the pigeons from their perch

35On the sombre rafters, that round him made

36Masses and moving shapes of shade, —

37By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,

38To the highest window in the wall,

39Where he paused to listen and look down

40A moment on the roofs of the town

41And the moonlight flowing over all.

42Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,

43In their night encampment on the hill,

44Wrapped in silence so deep and still

45That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,

46The watchful night-wind, as it went

47Creeping along from tent to tent,

48And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"

49A moment only he feels the spell

50Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread

51Of the lonely belfry and the dead;

52For suddenly all his thoughts are bent

53On a shadowy something far away,

54Where the river widens to meet the bay, —

55A line of black that bends and floats

56On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

57Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,

58Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride

59On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.

60Now he patted his horse's side,

61Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,

62Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,

63And turned and tightened his saddle girth;

64But mostly he watched with eager search

65The belfry tower of the Old North Church,

66As it rose above the graves on the hill,

67Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.

68And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height

69A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!

70He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,

71But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight

72A second lamp in the belfry burns.

73A hurry of hoofs in a village street,

74A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,

75And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark

76Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;

77That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,

78The fate of a nation was riding that night;

79And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,

80Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

81He has left the village and mounted the steep,

82And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,

83Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;

84And under the alders that skirt its edge,

85Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,

86Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

87It was twelve by the village clock

88When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.

89He heard the crowing of the cock,

90And the barking of the farmer's dog,

91And felt the damp of the river fog,

92That rises after the sun goes down.

93It was one by the village clock,

94When he galloped into Lexington.

95He saw the gilded weathercock

96Swim in the moonlight as he passed,

97And the meeting-house windows, black and bare,

98Gaze at him with a spectral glare,

99As if they already stood aghast

100At the bloody work they would look upon.

101It was two by the village clock,

102When he came to the bridge in Concord town.

103He heard the bleating of the flock,

104And the twitter of birds among the trees,

105And felt the breath of the morning breeze

106Blowing over the meadow brown.

107And one was safe and asleep in his bed

108Who at the bridge would be first to fall,

109Who that day would be lying dead,

110Pierced by a British musket ball.

111You know the rest. In the books you have read

112How the British Regulars fired and fled, — -

113How the farmers gave them ball for ball,

114From behind each fence and farmyard wall,

115Chasing the redcoats down the lane,

116Then crossing the fields to emerge again

117Under the trees at the turn of the road,

118And only pausing to fire and load.

119So through the night rode Paul Revere;

120And so through the night went his cry of alarm

121To every Middlesex village and farm, — -

122A cry of defiance, and not of fear,

123A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,

124And a word that shall echo for evermore!

125For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,

126Through all our history, to the last,

127In the hour of darkness and peril and need,

128The people will waken and listen to hear

129The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,

130And the midnight message of Paul Revere.