Identifier: childrenslongfel00lon (find matches)
Title: The children's Longfellow, illustrated
Year: 1908 (1900s)
Authors: Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 1807-1882
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston, Houghton Mifflin Co.
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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eath, 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 farmers 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, blank and bare, 286 A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door
Text Appearing After Image:
PAUL REVERES RIDE Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if the)- alread)- stood aghast At the blood) ^\ ork they would look upon. It was two by the \illage clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord to\\n. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the t^\■itter 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 a British musket-ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read.How the British Regulars fired and fled,—Ho\v the farmers gave them ball for ball.From behind each fence and farm-yard A\all,Chasing the red-coats doA\n the lane,Then crossing the fields to emerge againUnder 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 alarmTo every Middlesex village and farm, —A cry of defiance and not of fear,A v

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