Hospitality sitting with Gladness. - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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 farmyard wall,
Chasing the redcoats 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 for evermore!
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.

A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

Ah, nothing is too late
Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.