We peer’d away in the dark.
The cloud-black night was bringing
The stir of a storm to fear.
What flash’d and clash’d!—who brought it?—
“I, I!” cried Paul Revere.[1]
“The British are off for Concord[1]
To seize the colony’s arms!
And Dawes[1] and I stole over
The river and over the farms.”
“Wait, wait,” we cried, “a moment;