Independence Day is so much fun, but it's important to remember that along with firecrackers and hotdogs comes a lot of history. My favorite revolutionary war poem...
Paul Revere's Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of 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 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 rowed 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 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 barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, 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 sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,— By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night-encampment on the hill, Wrapped 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 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 to mount and ride, Booted 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 the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! 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!
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 and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders 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 the barking of the farmer’s dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down.
It was one 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 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. He heard the bleating 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 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 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! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere.
I walked through a county courthouse square, On a park bench an old man was sitting there. I said, "Your old courthouse is kinda run down." He said, "Naw, it'll do for our little town." I said, "Your flagpole has leaned a little bit, And that's a Ragged Old Flag you got hanging on it.
He said, "Have a seat", and I sat down. "Is this the first time you've been to our little town?" I said, "I think it is." He said, "I don't like to brag, But we're kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag."
"You see, we got a little hole in that flag there When Washington took it across the Delaware. And it got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key Sat watching it writing _Oh Say Can You See_. And it got a bad rip in New Orleans With Packingham and Jackson tuggin' at its seams."
"And it almost fell at the Alamo Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on through. She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill. There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg, And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag."
"On Flanders Field in World War I She got a big hole from a Bertha gun. She turned blood red in World War II She hung limp and low by the time it was through. She was in Korea and Vietnam. She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam."
"She waved from our ships upon the briny foam, And now they've about quit waving her back here at home. In her own good land she's been abused -- She's been burned, dishonored, denied and refused."
"And the government for which she stands Is scandalized throughout the land. And she's getting threadbare and wearing thin, But she's in good shape for the shape she's in. 'Cause she's been through the fire before And I believe she can take a whole lot more."
"So we raise her up every morning, Take her down every night. We don't let her touch the ground And we fold her up right. On second thought I DO like to brag, 'Cause I'm mighty proud of that Ragged Old Flag."
I know it's hard for you I guess that's the way it must be It's kinda rough on me, too but time is out now, don't you see?
The day has come now when I must tell you goodbye I'm going to manage somehow either to survive or to die
I'm leaving now don't ask me why I've got to get out of here I'll spread my wings and try to fly and if I fail I'll hit the ground and die
I put no blame on you but there's no way that I could stay I guess you already knew it is my independence day It is sad to grow up and see everything disappear but you can't make the world stop I've got to get rid of my fear I'm leaving now don't ask me why
I've got to get out of here I'll spread my wings and try to fly and if I fail I'll hit the ground and die
Hear is a song I found that I think would be very easy for students to learn. Also, the poem at the bottom I like because it explains the meaning behind the words. No authors were found.
Song: I Love Red, White and Blue (sung to tune of "When the Saints Go Marching In")
Our flag is red, Our flag is white. And in the corner it is blue, Oh, our flag stands for our country, How I love red, white, and blue!
Some stripes are red, Some stripes are white, And in the corner it is blue, Oh, our flag stands for our country, How I love red, white, and blue!
Salute the Flag
Four children take a walk today. They see a pole with a flag on top. The flag is red and white and blue-- And when they see the flag, they stop. They say "I pledge" or promise. Allegiance is loyalty. Republic means our government. One nation, under God, will be. Indivisible, not divided, And liberty means free. Justice for all means fairness. For all means you and me
Amanda-does anyone say it more clear than Johnny Cash? I am not a country music fan, but I know good lyrics when I hear them. What a great addition to the blogs. Thanks for sharing. This one is a good one to remember next month.
4th Bing, Bang, Boom Red, white, and blue Watching pretty colors is what I like to do. Is it on Easter, No, and not on Halloween. It’s the 4th of July! The best Fireworks I’ve seen.
Fourth of July Night The little boat at anchor in black water sat murmuring to the tall black sky A white sky bomb fizzed on a black line. A rocket hissed it's red signature into the west. Now a shower of Chinese fire alphabets, A cry of flower pots broken in flames, A long curve to a purple spray, three violet balloons--- Drips of seaweed tangled in gold, shimmering symbols of mixed numbers, Tremulous arrangements of cream gold folds of a bride's wedding gown--- A few sky bombs spoke their pieces, then velvet dark. The little boat at anchor in black water sat murmuring to the tall black sky. Carl Sandburg
Fourth July Night By Carly-
Every fourth of July Night- My Family and I on the Island, fireworks light the skyland. smoke and fish smells in the air, as people spill into the fourth of july fair.
Celebrating the Independence of America, the freedom of our land. The soldiers of thirteen nations fight the British land. Our founding fathers signed the Declaration of Independence in creation of the Birthday for this nation.
The bell rang out early that morn, as gatherers heard for the first, The doucument stating the liberties of the nation, and beginning of celebrating this day that is the fourth of July.
8 comments:
Independence Day is so much fun, but it's important to remember that along with firecrackers and hotdogs comes a lot of history. My favorite revolutionary war poem...
Paul Revere's Ride
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of 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 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 rowed 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 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 barrack door,
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
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 sombre rafters, that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade,—
By the trembling ladder, steep and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead,
In their night-encampment on the hill,
Wrapped 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
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 to mount and ride,
Booted 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 the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! 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!
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 and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders 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 the barking of the farmer’s dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog,
That rises after the sun goes down.
It was one 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 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.
He heard the bleating 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 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 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!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.
AMERICAN FLAG
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Back To Seasonal Poems
Back To July Poetry
As red as a fire,
As blue as the sky,
As white as the snow--
See our flag fly!
Three pretty colors
Wave at the sky,
Red, white and blue
On the Fourth of July!
Red, white and blue
Those colors are,
And every state has its very own star.
Hold up the flag
Hold it up high,
And then say, "Hurrah,
For the Fourth of July!"
~Author Unknown~
Hannah Hutchinson
RAGGED OLD FLAG
I walked through a county courthouse square,
On a park bench an old man was sitting there.
I said, "Your old courthouse is kinda run down."
He said, "Naw, it'll do for our little town."
I said, "Your flagpole has leaned a little bit,
And that's a Ragged Old Flag you got hanging on it.
He said, "Have a seat", and I sat down.
"Is this the first time you've been to our little town?"
I said, "I think it is." He said, "I don't like to brag,
But we're kinda proud of that Ragged Old Flag."
"You see, we got a little hole in that flag there
When Washington took it across the Delaware.
And it got powder-burned the night Francis Scott Key
Sat watching it writing _Oh Say Can You See_.
And it got a bad rip in New Orleans
With Packingham and Jackson tuggin' at its seams."
"And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag, but she waved on through.
She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee, Beauregard, and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that Ragged Old Flag."
"On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a big hole from a Bertha gun.
She turned blood red in World War II
She hung limp and low by the time it was through.
She was in Korea and Vietnam.
She went where she was sent by her Uncle Sam."
"She waved from our ships upon the briny foam,
And now they've about quit waving her back here at home.
In her own good land she's been abused --
She's been burned, dishonored, denied and refused."
"And the government for which she stands
Is scandalized throughout the land.
And she's getting threadbare and wearing thin,
But she's in good shape for the shape she's in.
'Cause she's been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more."
"So we raise her up every morning,
Take her down every night.
We don't let her touch the ground
And we fold her up right.
On second thought I DO like to brag,
'Cause I'm mighty proud of that Ragged Old Flag."
Written by Johnny Cash
Independence Day
Author: Hanne Munkholm
I know it's hard for you
I guess that's the way it must be
It's kinda rough on me, too
but time is out now, don't you see?
The day has come now
when I must tell you goodbye
I'm going to manage somehow
either to survive or to die
I'm leaving now
don't ask me why
I've got to get out of here
I'll spread my wings
and try to fly
and if I fail
I'll hit the ground and die
I put no blame on you
but there's no way that I could stay
I guess you already knew
it is my independence day
It is sad to grow up
and see everything disappear
but you can't make the world stop
I've got to get rid of my fear
I'm leaving now
don't ask me why
I've got to get out of here
I'll spread my wings
and try to fly
and if I fail
I'll hit the ground and die
Hear is a song I found that I think would be very easy for students to learn. Also, the poem at the bottom I like because it explains the meaning behind the words. No authors were found.
Song: I Love Red, White and Blue
(sung to tune of "When the Saints Go Marching In")
Our flag is red,
Our flag is white.
And in the corner it is blue,
Oh, our flag stands for our country,
How I love red, white, and blue!
Some stripes are red,
Some stripes are white,
And in the corner it is blue,
Oh, our flag stands for our country,
How I love red, white, and blue!
Salute the Flag
Four children take a walk today.
They see a pole with a flag on top.
The flag is red and white and blue--
And when they see the flag, they stop.
They say "I pledge" or promise.
Allegiance is loyalty.
Republic means our government.
One nation, under God, will be.
Indivisible, not divided,
And liberty means free.
Justice for all means fairness.
For all means you and me
Amanda-does anyone say it more clear than Johnny Cash? I am not a country music fan, but I know good lyrics when I hear them. What a great addition to the blogs. Thanks for sharing. This one is a good one to remember next month.
Independence Day:
4th
Bing, Bang, Boom
Red, white, and blue
Watching pretty colors is what I like to do.
Is it on Easter, No, and not on Halloween.
It’s the 4th of July!
The best Fireworks I’ve seen.
Fourth of July Night
The little boat at anchor in black water sat murmuring to the tall black sky
A white sky bomb fizzed on a black line.
A rocket hissed it's red signature into the west.
Now a shower of Chinese fire alphabets,
A cry of flower pots broken in flames,
A long curve to a purple spray, three violet balloons---
Drips of seaweed tangled in gold, shimmering symbols of mixed numbers,
Tremulous arrangements of cream gold folds of a bride's wedding gown---
A few sky bombs spoke their pieces, then velvet dark.
The little boat at anchor in black water sat murmuring to the tall black sky.
Carl Sandburg
Fourth July Night By Carly-
Every fourth of July Night-
My Family and I on the Island,
fireworks light the skyland.
smoke and fish smells in the air,
as people spill into the
fourth of july fair.
Celebrating the Independence of America, the freedom of our land.
The soldiers of thirteen nations fight the British land.
Our founding fathers signed the
Declaration of Independence in creation of the Birthday for this nation.
The bell rang out early that morn,
as gatherers heard for the first,
The doucument stating the liberties of the nation,
and beginning of celebrating this day that is the fourth of July.
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