Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



2.     Reader 1      Listen, my children, and you shall hear

3.                       Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

4.                       On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:

5.                       Hardly a man is now alive

6.                       Who remembers that famous day and year.


7.     Reader 2     He said to his friend, "If the British march

8.                       By land or sea from the town to-night,

9.                       Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch

10.                        Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,--

11.                        One if by land, and two if by sea;

12.                        And I on the opposite shore will be,

13.                        Ready to ride and spread the alarm

14.                        Through every Middlesex village and farm,

15.                        For the country-folk to be up and to arm."


16.      Reader 3     Then he said "Good night!" and with muffled oar

17.                        Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,

18.                        Just as the moon rose over the bay,

19.                        Where swinging wide at her moorings lay

20.                        The Somerset, British man-of-war:

21.                        A phantom ship, with each mast and spar

22.                        Across the moon, like a prison-bar,

23.                        And a huge black hulk, that was magnified

24.                        By its own reflection in the tide.


25.      Reader 4     Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street

26.                        Wanders and watches with eager ears,

27.                        Till in the silence around him he hears

28.                        The muster of men at the barrack door,

29.                        The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,

30.                        And the measured tread of the grenadiers

31.                        Marching down to their boats on the shore.


32.      Reader 5     Then he climbed to the tower of the church,

33.                        Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,

34.                        To the belfry-chamber overhead,

35.                        And startled the pigeons from their perch

36.                        On the sombre rafters, that round him made

37.                        Masses and moving shapes of shade,--

38.                        By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,

39.                        To the highest window in the wall,

40.      Reader 6     Where he paused to listen and look down

41.                        A moment on the roofs of the town,

42.                        And the moonlight flowing over all.


43.      Reader 7     Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,

44.                        In their night-encampment on the hill,

45.                        Wrapped in silence so deep and still

46.                        That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread,

47.                        The watchful night-wind, as it went

48.                        Creeping along from tent to tent,

49.                        And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"

50.      Reader 8     A moment only he feels the spell

51.                        Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread

52.                        Of the lonely belfry and the dead;

53.                        For suddenly all his thoughts are bent

54.                        On a shadowy something far away,

55.                        Where the river widens to meet the bay, --

56.                        A line of black, that bends and floats

57.                        On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.


58.      Reader 9     Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,

59.                        Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride,

60.                        On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.

61.                        Now he patted his horse's side,

62.                        Now gazed on the landscape far and near,

63.                        Then impetuous stamped the earth,

64.                        And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;

65.      Reader 10   But mostly he watched with eager search

66.                        The belfry-tower of the old North Church,

67.                        As it rose above the graves on the hill,

68.                        Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.

69.      Reader 11   And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height,

70.                        A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!

71.                        He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,

72.                        But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight

73.                        A second lamp in the belfry burns!


74.      Reader 12   A hurry of hoofs in a village-street,

75.                        A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,

76.                        And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark

77.                        Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet:

78.      Reader 13   That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,

79.                        The fate of a nation was riding that night;

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


81.                        Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

83.      Reader 14   He has left the village and mounted the steep,
84.                        And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
85.                        Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
86.                        And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
87.                        Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
88.                        Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
89.      Reader 15     It was twelve by the village clock
90.                        When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
91.                        He heard the crowing of the cock, 
92.                        And the barking of the farmer's dog, 
93.                        And felt the damp of the river-fog,
94.                        That rises when the sun goes down.
95.      Reader 16    It was one by the village clock,
96.                        When he galloped into Lexington. 
97.                        He saw the gilded weathercock 
98.                        Swim in the moonlight as he passed, 
99.                        And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, 
100.                     Gaze at him with a spectral glare, 
101.                     As if they already stood aghast 
102.                     At the bloody work they would look upon.
103.   Reader 17   It was two by the village clock,
104.                     When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 
105.                     He heard the bleating of the flock, 
106.                     And the twitter of birds among the trees, 
107.                     And felt the breath of the morning breeze
108.                     Blowing over the meadows brown.
109.   Reader 18   And one was safe and asleep in his bed
110.                     Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
111.                     Who that day would be lying dead,
112.                     Pierced by a British musket-ball.
113.   Reader 19      You know the rest. In the books you have read,
114.                     How the British Regulars fired and fled,--
115.                     How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
116.                     From behind each fence and farmyard-wall,
117.                     Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
118.                     Then crossing the fields to emerge again
119.                     Under the trees at the turn of the road,
120.                     And only pausing to fire and load.
121.   Reader 20   So through the night rode Paul Revere;
122.                     And so through the night went his cry of alarm
123.                     To every Middlesex village and farm,-- 
124.                     A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
125.                     A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
126.                     And a word that shall echo forevermore!
127.   All               For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
128.                     Through all our history, to the last,
129.                     In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
130.                     The people will waken and listen to hear
131.                     The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
132.                     And the midnight message of Paul Revere.