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THE MIDNIGHT RIDE OF PAUL REVERE
The Poetry Selection ^ | April 18, 2011 | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Posted on 04/18/2011 8:43:32 PM PDT by mick

Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.......

(Excerpt) Read more at poetry.eserver.org ...


TOPICS: History; Military/Veterans; The Poetry Branch
KEYWORDS: midnightride; paulrevere
POSTED IN HONOR OF PAUL REVERE WHO RODE THIS DAY IN 1775.
1 posted on 04/18/2011 8:43:36 PM PDT by mick
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To: mick

Paul Revere ride bump!


2 posted on 04/18/2011 8:44:49 PM PDT by Rebelbase
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To: mick

....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!


3 posted on 04/18/2011 8:46:43 PM PDT by mick (Central Banker Capitalism is NOT Free Enterprise)
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Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.

He said to his friend, “If the British march
By 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 by sea;
And I on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm.”

Then he said “Good-night!” and with muffled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown 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 a prison bar,
And a 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 the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,
By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled 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 in 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 churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread,
The watchful night-wind, as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, “All is well!”
A moment 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 a shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,—
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse’s side,
Now he 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 the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns.

A hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a 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 beneath him, tranquil and broad 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 crowing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmer’s dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the 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 the meeting-house windows, black and bare,
Gaze at him with a 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 in 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 meadow 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 a 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,
Chasing the redcoats 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 Middlesex village and farm,-—
A cry of defiance, and not of fear,
A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo for evermore!
For, borne on 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.


4 posted on 04/18/2011 8:50:13 PM PDT by DeoVindiceSicSemperTyrannis (Want to make $$$? It's easy! Use FR as a platform to pimp your blog for hits!!!)
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To: mick

It’s a great fable, but Paul Revere was captured early on and held as a prisoner and didn’t make the ride he is credited for. Another guy did however, I forget his name.


5 posted on 04/18/2011 8:51:54 PM PDT by faucetman (Just the facts ma'am, just the facts)
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To: mick
The peom got a few of its facts wrong, but still it serves as a great reminder of events in our history.


6 posted on 04/18/2011 8:52:08 PM PDT by DeoVindiceSicSemperTyrannis (Want to make $$$? It's easy! Use FR as a platform to pimp your blog for hits!!!)
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To: mick
Countdown until Obama leaves Office: 642 days as of April 18, 2011.

We The People are awake. We will no longer be misled by office-holding criminals. We will not elect a one-trick circus-clown president or RINOs again to office in 2012.

USA-Revere-4sm
  Tea Party USA - Modern Day Paul Reveres - Growing by the day!
7 posted on 04/18/2011 8:52:21 PM PDT by BobP (The piss-stream media - Never to be watched again in my house)
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To: BobP

Today is PATRIOT’s DAY.....!!! that popped up in my phone calendar today....now I REMEMBER WHY!


8 posted on 04/18/2011 8:54:30 PM PDT by goodnesswins (Unlike the West, the Islamic world is serious.)
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To: faucetman

You are half right. He was captured early on...and the most famous horse in American history was taken by the Red Coats and never seen again. But Revere managed to escape and hid out in Lexington. As to other riders....there were a multitude of them going in many different direction to alert the people...even one woman legion has it....but he got the most credit mainly due to this poem.


9 posted on 04/18/2011 8:58:32 PM PDT by mick (Central Banker Capitalism is NOT Free Enterprise)
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To: All

What a hoot you all are.

Waxing sentimental once a year.

I am all choked up, but it is on the inside.


10 posted on 04/18/2011 9:11:28 PM PDT by mmercier
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To: mick


11 posted on 04/18/2011 9:29:51 PM PDT by JoeProBono (A closed mouth gathers no feet - Visualize)
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To: JoeProBono

Great photo...thanks !


12 posted on 04/18/2011 9:43:08 PM PDT by mick (Central Banker Capitalism is NOT Free Enterprise)
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To: mick

Bump!


13 posted on 04/18/2011 9:49:29 PM PDT by EternalVigilance (The epitaph of the GOP: They were even less principled than Donald Trump.)
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To: mick

14 posted on 04/18/2011 10:08:46 PM PDT by JoeProBono (A closed mouth gathers no feet - Visualize)
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To: DeoVindiceSicSemperTyrannis

Thank you for posting this excellent work. Those were the days, my friend. We thought they’d never end...


15 posted on 04/18/2011 10:58:18 PM PDT by April Lexington (Study the Constitution so you know what they are taking away!)
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To: mick
But Revere managed to escape and hid out in Lexington. As to other riders....

He's out in the barn but don't tell anybody...

16 posted on 04/18/2011 10:59:29 PM PDT by April Lexington (Study the Constitution so you know what they are taking away!)
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To: mick
From an interesting and surprising article about the poem:

That Longfellow has been neglected, and relegated to the domestic, the maternal, and the juvenile, means that he was never subjected to the scrutiny of New Historicists, either. If he had been, they might have picked up on something strange about “Paul Revere’s Ride,” which is that one way of reading it is as a poem less about liberty and Paul Revere, and more about slavery and John Brown.
17 posted on 04/18/2011 11:36:29 PM PDT by caveat emptor (FUBO)
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To: mick

One of my favs. My mom read me a lot of Longfellow, when I was growing up. She grew up in a one room schoolhouse, and she learned to “recite”.

I found this on youtube. It’s a touch amateurish (by today’s high standards) but it’s earnest with good settings. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1El-guPeEo&feature=related


18 posted on 04/19/2011 1:53:29 AM PDT by I still care (I miss my friends, bagels, and the NYC skyline - but not the taxes. I love the South.)
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To: mick

Paul Revere was riding to warn a gun store against a coming big-government gun confiscation. Wow, that seems so familiar...


19 posted on 04/19/2011 6:08:45 AM PDT by backwoods-engineer (Any politician who holds that the state accords rights is an oathbreaker and an "enemy... domestic.")
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