June 9, 2025 • 7 mins
On this episode of Our American Stories, in this dramatic reading, American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow immortalizes Old North Church and Paul Revere in American folklore, cementing their place in the nation’s history.
Support the show (https://www.ouramericanstories.com/donate)
See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:10):
This is Lee Habib, and this is our American stories,
the show where America is the star and the American
people up next. A history story and a literature story.
Paul Revere's Ride is a poem by the American poet
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and it commemorates the actions of American
patriot Paul Revere on April eighteenth, seventeen seventy five. Longfellow
(00:35):
was inspired to write the poem after visiting the Old
North Church in Boston and climbing its tower on April fifth,
eighteen sixty. He wrote the poem the next day, and
it was published in eighteen sixty one. Here is a
reading of that poem.
Speaker 2 (00:52):
Listen, my children, and you shall hear of the midnight
ride of Paul Revere on the eighteenth of eight 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
(01:15):
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
(01:36):
rode 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
(02:00):
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 baryck door, the sound of arms, and the
tramp of feet, and the measured tread of the grenadiers
(02:21):
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 somber
rafters that round him made masses and moving shapes of
shade by the trembling ladders, steep and tall, to the
(02:44):
highest window in the wall, where he paused to listen
and looked down a moment on the roofs of the town,
and the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath in the churchyard
lay the dead and their night encampment on the hill,
(03:04):
wrapt 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
(03:26):
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 mountain ride, booted
(03:53):
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
(04:14):
the Old North Church as it rose above the graves
on the hill, lonely and spectral and somber and still
and lo.
Speaker 3 (04:26):
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.
Speaker 2 (04:38):
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
(04:59):
and mounted the s and beneath him, tranquil and broad
and deep is the mystic meeting the ocean tides, and
under the altars 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
(05:20):
the barking of the farmer's dog, and felt the damp
of the river fog that rises after the sun goes down.
It was won 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, gaze at him with a spectral glare, as
(05:42):
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.
Speaker 3 (05:53):
He heard the bleating.
Speaker 2 (05:54):
Of the flock and the twitter 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
(06:15):
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
(06:40):
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, forborne on the night wind of
the past, through all our history to the last. In
(07:04):
the hour of darkness and peril and need, the people
will waken and listen to hear the hurrying hoop beats
of that steed and the midnight message of Paul Revere.
Speaker 1 (07:19):
And what a reading and what a story, folks. This
is our American Stories. This is Lee Habib, host of
our American Stories. Every day we set out to tell
the stories of Americans past and present, from small towns
(07:39):
to big cities, and from all walks of life, doing
extraordinary things that we truly can't do this show without you.
Our shows are free to listen to but they're not
free to make. If you love what you hear, go
to our American Stories dot com and make a donation
to keep the stories coming. That's our American Stories dot com.
This is Lee Habib, and this is our American stories,
the show where America is the star and the American
people up next. A history story and a literature story.
Paul Revere's Ride is a poem by the American poet
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and it commemorates the actions of American
patriot Paul Revere on April eighteenth, seventeen seventy five. Longfellow
(00:35):
was inspired to write the poem after visiting the Old
North Church in Boston and climbing its tower on April fifth,
eighteen sixty. He wrote the poem the next day, and
it was published in eighteen sixty one. Here is a
reading of that poem.
Speaker 2 (00:52):
Listen, my children, and you shall hear of the midnight
ride of Paul Revere on the eighteenth of eight 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
(01:15):
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
(01:36):
rode 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
(02:00):
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 baryck door, the sound of arms, and the
tramp of feet, and the measured tread of the grenadiers
(02:21):
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 somber
rafters that round him made masses and moving shapes of
shade by the trembling ladders, steep and tall, to the
(02:44):
highest window in the wall, where he paused to listen
and looked down a moment on the roofs of the town,
and the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath in the churchyard
lay the dead and their night encampment on the hill,
(03:04):
wrapt 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
(03:26):
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 mountain ride, booted
(03:53):
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
(04:14):
the Old North Church as it rose above the graves
on the hill, lonely and spectral and somber and still
and lo.
Speaker 3 (04:26):
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.
Speaker 2 (04:38):
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
(04:59):
and mounted the s and beneath him, tranquil and broad
and deep is the mystic meeting the ocean tides, and
under the altars 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
(05:20):
the barking of the farmer's dog, and felt the damp
of the river fog that rises after the sun goes down.
It was won 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, gaze at him with a spectral glare, as
(05:42):
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.
Speaker 3 (05:53):
He heard the bleating.
Speaker 2 (05:54):
Of the flock and the twitter 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
(06:15):
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
(06:40):
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, forborne on the night wind of
the past, through all our history to the last. In
(07:04):
the hour of darkness and peril and need, the people
will waken and listen to hear the hurrying hoop beats
of that steed and the midnight message of Paul Revere.
Speaker 1 (07:19):
And what a reading and what a story, folks. This
is our American Stories. This is Lee Habib, host of
our American Stories. Every day we set out to tell
the stories of Americans past and present, from small towns
(07:39):
to big cities, and from all walks of life, doing
extraordinary things that we truly can't do this show without you.
Our shows are free to listen to but they're not
free to make. If you love what you hear, go
to our American Stories dot com and make a donation
to keep the stories coming. That's our American Stories dot com.
Host
Lee Habeeb
Popular Podcasts
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Special Summer Offer: Exclusively on Apple Podcasts, try our Dateline Premium subscription completely free for one month! With Dateline Premium, you get every episode ad-free plus exclusive bonus content.
The Breakfast Club
The World's Most Dangerous Morning Show, The Breakfast Club, With DJ Envy, Jess Hilarious, And Charlamagne Tha God!
Crime Junkie
Does hearing about a true crime case always leave you scouring the internet for the truth behind the story? Dive into your next mystery with Crime Junkie. Every Monday, join your host Ashley Flowers as she unravels all the details of infamous and underreported true crime cases with her best friend Brit Prawat. From cold cases to missing persons and heroes in our community who seek justice, Crime Junkie is your destination for theories and stories you won’t hear anywhere else. Whether you're a seasoned true crime enthusiast or new to the genre, you'll find yourself on the edge of your seat awaiting a new episode every Monday. If you can never get enough true crime... Congratulations, you’ve found your people. Follow to join a community of Crime Junkies! Crime Junkie is presented by audiochuck Media Company.