‘Twas the witching hour, and the barren trees
did crook and moan as the Rider flees.
With the lantern signal, a leap and a bound,
away with his message from Charles Towne,
announcing to all, so there was no doubt,
plainly declaring, “The Regulars are out!”
In a nearby belfry, two lanterns glowed
as the British soldiers paddled and rowed.
800 troops crossed the bay,
on to Concord, on their way
to seize the Rebels’ weapons and guns
and powder weighing in the tons,
pausing in Lexington, if by chance, to see
the locale of two Sons of Liberty.
Waking children, sirs, and madams,
searching feverishly for Hancock and Adams.
Upon arriving in that fateful Towne,
spying militia gathered ‘round,
sparse in number, few and lean,
waiting and ready on Lexington Greene.
But Rebels they were, frightened, of course,
of His Majesty’s most powerful force.
They broke their lines and ran about
and it quickly looked a British rout.
In his haste, a colonial man
tripped and fired a flash in the pan.
How strange that this shot, accident’ly hurled,
was the shot heard ‘round the world?
A brief exchange, at the end was found
4 dead colonists on the ground.
The Redcoat army was quickly gone,
to Concord town it marched on.
The crimson menace, with eyes of flame,
swelled and spread as it came.
Patriots across the countryside
fueled the Rebellion’s rising tide,
increasing the torpor of the storm,
whirling, twirling, taking form,
pouring forth from the New England wood,
every Middlesex militia stood.
At the North Bridge was the very spot
two forces traded their musket shot,
where 2 armies grappled and fought,
Volley for volley, shot for shot.
Redcoats succumbed to musket balls
delivered from behind stone walls.
And on that bridge, a telling story,
one that turns out to be quite gory:
A wounded Redcoat, & a farmer with axe,
declared, “Here’s what I think of your tax!”
And swung his blade and struck him dead
by burying his axe into his head.
Outmatched and outgunned, English drums beat
and signaled their soldiers’ hasty retreat.
Tho’ it was not the end of this fight,
the countryside closed around them tight.
Assailed on all sides, Brits would learn
a hellish gauntlet on their return.
Fatigued by fighting, besieged by fire,
a beleaguered juggernaut caught in a mire.
Reaching base, battered down,
finally reaching Boston Towne,
where for months, their army stayed,
trapped within the Rebels' blockade.
Eventually, the Redcoats would be made to leave,
and the Continental Army could try to achieve
a greater purpose, with a Declaration,
the beginnings of a fledgling nation.
The colonies the King tried to plunder
led to a nation torn asunder.
An unknown journey Americans had dared,
to their British overlords they declared,
“On back to England! You can keep your King!
And God bless America, let freedom Ring!”
About this poem
A story of Paul Revere's fateful ride on the eve of the American Revolution in 1775.
Written on July 08, 2006
Submitted by matthewsingley on May 21, 2022
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 2:41 min read
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|Scheme||AABCDDEEFFGGHHAICBJJKKDDLLMMBBNOPPQQRRSSTTUTVVHHWWXXYYZZ1 1 2 3 CC4 4 5 5 6 6 2 2 7 7 8 8|
|Closest metre||Iambic pentameter|
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"Of Lexington & Concord" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 9 Dec. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/129330/of-lexington-&-concord>.