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[ti:A Visit From St Nicholas] |
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’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house |
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Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. |
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The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, |
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In hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there. |
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The children were nestled all snug in their beds, |
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While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; |
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And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap, |
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Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap; |
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When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, |
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I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. |
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Away to the window I flew like a flash, |
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Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. |
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The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow |
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Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, |
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When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, |
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But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, |
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With a little old driver, so lively and quick, |
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I knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick. |
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More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, |
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And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: |
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“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! |
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On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! |
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To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! |
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Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!” |
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As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, |
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When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, |
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So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, |
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With the sleigh full of toys, and Saint Nicholas too. |
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And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof |
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The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. |
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As I drew in my head, and was turning around, |
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Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound. |
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He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, |
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And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. |
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A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, |
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And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. |
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His eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! |
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His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! |
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His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, |
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And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. |
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The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, |
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And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. |
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He had a broad face and a little round belly, |
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That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. |
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He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, |
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And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. |
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A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, |
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Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. |
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He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, |
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And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, |
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And laying his finger aside of his nose, |
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And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. |
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He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, |
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And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. |
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But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, |
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“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!” |
