Paul Revere's Ride

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE (April 18, 1775)
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

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 to 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 somber rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade, -
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wail,
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 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 somber 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 rode into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed.
And the meeting-house windows, blank 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 tlie 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, -
How the farmers gave them ball for ball.
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall.
Chasing the red-coats 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 forevermore!
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.

The Volunteer

The Volunteer
by: Elbridge Jefferson Cutler (1831-1870)

 

"At dawn," he said, "I bid them all farewell,
To go where bugles call and rifles gleam."
And with the restless thought asleep he fell,
And wandered into dream.

 

A great hot plain from sea to mountain spread;
Through it a level river slowly drawn;
He moved with a vast crowd, and at its head‚

Streamed banners like the dawn.

There came a blinding flash, a deafening roar,
And dissonant cries of triumph and dismay;
Blood trickled down the river's reedy shore,
And with the dead he lay.

The morn broke in upon his solemn dream;
And still with steady pulse and deepening eye,
"Where bugles call," he said, "and rifles gleam,
I follow, though I die!"

Concord Hymn

CONCORD HYMN
BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON
(Sung at the Completion of the Battle Monument, July 4, 1837)

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

The Song of The Cannon

The Song of the Cannon
by Sam Walter Foss
 

When the diplomats cease from their capers,
Their red-tape requests and replies,
Their shuttlecock battle of papers,
Their saccharine parley of lies;
When the plenipotentiary wrangle
Is tied in a chaos of knots,
And becomes an unwindable tangle
Of verbals unmarried to thoughts;
When they've anguished and argued profoundly,
Asserted, assumed, and averred,
Then I end up the dialogue roundly
With my monosyllabical word.

Not mine is a speech academic,
No lexicon lingo is mine,
And in politic parley, polemic,
I was never created to shine.
But I speak with some show of decision,
And I never attempt to be bland,
I hurl my one word with precision,
My hearers - they all understand.
It requires no labored translation,
Its pith and its import to glean;
They gather its signification,
They know at the first what I mean.

The codes of the learned legations,
Of form and of rule and decree,
The etiquette books of the nations -
They were never intended for me.
When your case is talked into confusion,
Then hush you, my diplomat friend,
Give me just a word in conclusion,
I'll bring the dispute to an end.
Ye diplomats, cease to aspire
A case that's appealed to debate,
It has gone to a court that is higher,
And I'm the Attorney for Fate.

An Appeal for America

AN APPEAL FOR AMERICA
BY WILLIAM PITT
(Addressed to LORD CHATHAM In Parliament, January 20, I775)

Who said I'm not Patriotic?

'My Lords:
      These papers, brought to your table at so late a period of this business, tell us what? Why, what all
the world knew before: that the Americans, irritated by repeated injuries, and stripped of their inborn rights and dearest privileges, have resisted, and entered into associations for the preservation of their common liberties.
      Had the early situation of the people of Boston been attended to, things would not have come to this. But the infant complaints of Boston were literally treated like the capricious squalls of a child, who, it is said, 'did not know whether it was aggrieved or not.'
      But full well I knew, at that time, that this child, if not redressed, would soon assume the courage and voice of a man. Full well I knew that the sons of ancestors, born under the same free constitution and once breathing the same liberal air as Englishmen, would resist upon the same principles and on the same occasions.
      What has government done? They have sent an armed force consisting of seventeen thousand men, to dragoon the Bostonians into what is called their duty; and, so far from once turning their eyes to the policy and destructive consequence of this scheme, are constantly sending out more troops. And we are told, in the language of menace, that if seventeen thousand men won't do, fifty thousand shall.
      It is true, my lords, with this force they may ravage the country, waste and destroy as they march; but, in the progress of fifteen hundred miles, can they occupy the places they have passed? Will not a country which can produce three millions of people, wronged and insulted as they are, start up like hydras in every comer, and gather fresh strength from fresh opposition?
      Nay, what dependence can you have upon the soldiery, the unhappy engines of your wrath? They are Englishmen, who must feel for the privileges of Englishmen. Do you think that these men can turn their arms against their brethren? Surely no. A victory must be to them a defeat, and carnage a sacrifice.
      But it is not merely three millions of people, the produce of America, we have to contend with in this unnatural struggle ; many more are on their side, dispersed over the face of this wide empire. Every Whig in this country and in Ireland is with them.
      In this alarming crisis I come with this paper in my hand to offer you the best of my experience and advice; which is, that a humble petition be presented to his Majesty, beseeching him that, in order to open the way toward a happy settlement of the dangerous troubles in America, it may graciously please him that immediate orders be given to General Gage for removing his Majesty's force from the town of Boston.
      Such conduct will convince America that you mean to try her cause in the spirit of freedom and inquiry, and not in letters of blood.
      There is no time to be lost. Every hour is big with danger. Perhaps, while I am now speaking, the decisive blow is struck which may involve millions in the consequence. And, believe me, the very first drop of blood which is shed will cause a wound which may never be healed.
      When your lordships look at the papers transmitted to us from America, when you consider their firmness, decency, and wisdom, you cannot but respect their cause and wish to make it your own. For myself, I must affirm, declare, and avow that, in all my reading and observation (and it has been my favorite study, for I have read Thucydides, and have studied and admired the master-states of the world), I say, I must declare that, for solidity of reasoning, force of sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion, under such a complication of difficult circumstances, no nation or body of men can stand in preference to the General Congress at Philadelphia. I trust it is obvious to your lordships that all attempts to impose servitude upon such men, to establish despotism, over such a mighty continental nation, must be vain, must be fatal.
       We shall be forced, ultimately, to retract. Let us retract while we can, not when, we must. I say we must necessarily undo these violent, oppressive acts. They Must be repealed. You Will repeal them. I pledge myself for it that you will, in the end, repeal them, I stake my reputation on it. I will consent to be taken for an idiot if they are not finally repealed.

The Revolutionary Alarm

Liberty Forever

        Darkness closed upon the country and upon the town, but it was no not for sleep. Heralds on swift relays of horses transmitted the war-message from  hand to hand, till village repeated it to village; the sea to the backwoods; the plains to the highlands; and it was never suffered to droop till it had been borne North and South, and East and West, throughout the land.
       It spread over the bays that receive the Saco and the Penobscot. Its loud reveille broke the rest of the trappers of New Hampshire, and, ringing like bugle-notes from peak to peak, overleapt the Green Mountains, swept onward to Montreal, and descended the ocean river, till the responses were echoed from the cliffs of Quebec. The hills along the Hudson told to one another the tale.
       As the summons hurried to the south, it was one day at New York; in one more at Philadelphia; the next it lighted a watchfire at Baltimore; thence it waked an answer at Annapolis. Crossing the Potomac near Mount Vernon, it was sent forward without a halt to Williamsburg. It traversed the Dismal Swamp to Nansemond, along the route of the first emigrants to North Carolina. It moved onwards and still onwards, through boundless groves of evergreen, to New-Beme and to Wilmington.
       For God's sake, forward it by night and by day,'' wrote Cornelius Harnett, by the express which sped for Brunswick. Patriots of South Carolina caught up its tones at the border and despatched it to Charleston,
and through pines and palmettos and moss-clad live-oaks, farther to the south, till it resounded among the New England settlements beyond Savannah.
       The Blue Ridge took up the voice, and made it heard from one end to the other of the valley of Virginia. The Alleghanies, as they listened, opened their barriers, that the loud call  might pass through  to the hardy riflemen on the Holston, the Watauga, and the French Broad. Ever renewing its strength, powerful enough even to create a commonwealth, it breathed its inspiring word to the first settlers of Kentucky; so that hunters who made their halt in the matchless valley of the Elkhom commemorated the 19th day of April, 1775, by naming their encampment Lexington.
       With one impulse the colonies sprung to arms; with one spirit they pledged themselves to each other - to be ready for the extreme event. With one heart the continent cried, Liberty or Death! by George Bancroft

The Principles of The Revolution

Three cheers for the red, white and blue!

       When we speak of the glory of our fathers, we mean not that vulgar renown to be attained by physical strength; nor yet that higher fame, to be acquired by intellectual power. Both often exist without lofty thought, pure intent, or generous purpose. The glory which we celebrate was strictly of a moral and religious character; righteous as to its ends; just as to its means.
       The American Revolution had its origin neither in ambition, nor avarice, nor envy, nor in any gross passion; but in the nature and relation of things, and in the thence-resulting necessity of separation from the parent state. Its progress was limited by that necessity. Our fathers displayed great strength and great moderation of purpose. In difficult times they conducted it with wisdom; in doubtful times, with firmness; in perilous times, with courage; under oppressive trials, erect; amidst temptations, unseduced; in the dark hour of danger, fearless; in the bright hour of prosperity, faithful.
       It was not the instant feeling and pressure of despotism that roused them to resist, but the principle on which that arm was extended. They could have paid the impositions of the British government, had they been increased a thousandfold; but payment acknowledged right, and they spurned the consequences of that acknowledgment. But, above all, they realized that those burdens, though light in themselves, would to coming ages - to us, their posterity - be heavy, and probably insupportable. They preferred to meet the trial in their own times, and to make the sacrifices in their own persons, that we and our descendants, their posterity, might reap the harvest and enjoy the increase.
       Generous men, exalted patriots, immortal statesmen! For this deep moral and social affection, for this elevated self-devotion, this bold daring, the multiplying millions of your posterity, as they spread backward to the lakes, and from the lakes to the mountains, and from the mountains to the western waters, shall annually, in all future time, come up to the temples of the Most High, with song and anthem, and thanksgiving; with cheerful symphonies and hallelujahs, to repeat your names; to look steadfastly on the brightness of your glory; to trace its spreading rays to the points from which they emanate; and to seek in your character and conduct a practical illustration of public duty in every occurring social exigency. by Josiah Quincy

Kitten's Night Thoughts

 Kitten's Night Thoughts
Oliver Hereford

When Human Folk put out the light
And think they've made it dark as night,
A Pussy Cat sees every bit
As well as when the lights are lit.

When Human Folk have gone upstairs
And shed their skins and said their prayers,
And there is no one to annoy,
Then Pussy may her life enjoy.

No human hands to pinch or slap,
Or rub her fur against the nap,
Or throw cold water from a pail,
Or make a handle of her tail.

And so you will not think it wrong,
When she can play the whole night long,
With no one to disturb her play,
That Pussy goes to bed by day.  

Politely

Politely
Diane Willson

When Goldilocks went calling
On the Little Baby Bear
And spoiled his bowl of porridge
And sat holes into his chair-
I hope she hurried home again
For others nice and new
And took them back politely
To the Baby Bear. Don't you?
 

The Sweetstuff Wife

The Sweetstuff Wife
Eleanor Farjeon

The Sweetstuff Wife in the queer little shop
Has four little windowpanes
With bottles of bulls-eye and lollipop,
Peardrop, lemon drop, chocolate drop,
Boxes of small tin trains,
Comfits of every color too,
With mottos on them, like "I Love You"
And "Do You Love Me?" "Be Kind," "Be
True,
And horses with fluffy manes,
And sawdust dollies with china heads,
And painted tea-sets, and tiny beds,
And balls with quarters of blues and reds,
And butterfly aeroplanes,
And sugar biscuits, and sweet cigars,
And ninepins, and wind-up motor-cars,
And masks and crackers and silver stars
And paper flowers and chains. 

Chickadee

 Chickadee
Hilda Conkling
(Written at the age of six)

The chickadee in the apple tree
Talks all the time very gently.
He makes me sleepy.
I rock away to the sea-lights.
Far off I hear him talking
The way smooth bright pebbles
Drop into water . . .
Chicka'dee-dee-dee . . .

"Down in the Hollow" and Ladybug Hand Craft

Ladybugs shaped using either handprints or hand tracing. Cut out the hands,
 add black spots, antenna, eyeballs and heads.

  

 Down in the Hollow
Aileen Fisher

Down in the hollow,
Not so far away,
I saw a little ladybug
When I went to play,

Swinging on the clover
Up in the air . . .
I wonder if the ladybug
Knew I was there.

Two of Each Were All Aboard Noah's Ark!