That was all! And yet through the gloom and the light,
The fate of a nation was riding that night.
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 when the sun goes down.
It was one by the village clock,
When he rode into Lexington.