Now he gazed at the landscape far and near,Īnd turned and tightened his saddle girth On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. On the rising tide like a bridge of boats. Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, On the sombre rafters, that round him madeīeneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church,īy the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,Īnd startled the pigeons from their perch Marching down to their boats on the shore. The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,Īnd the measured tread of the grenadiers, Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oarĪnd a huge black hulk, that was magnified Through every Middlesex village and farm,įor the country folk to be up and to arm." Of the North Church tower as a signal light,. Who remembers that famous day and year.He said to his friend, "If the British march On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five
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