Twas the night before Christmas a visit from Saint Nicholas by Clemencymour. Twas the
night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse. The stockings were won by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled,
all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap, had just settled
our brains for a long winter's nap, when out on the lawn there arose
such a clatter. I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, I flew like a flash door, opened the
shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the
new fallen snow gave the luster of mid day to objects below. When what
to my wandering eyes should appear but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer with
a little old driver. So lively and quick I knew in a moment it
must be Saint Nick. More rapid than eagles, his coursers. They came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name, Now Dasher,
now Dancer, now Brancer, and Vixen, on Comet, on, Cupid,
on Dander, and Blitzen. To the top of the porch, to
the top of the wall. Now dash away, dash away, dash away,
all as dry leaf that before the wild hurricane fly. When they meet
with an obstacle, mount to the sky, so up to the house,
top the courses they flew with a sleigh full of toys, and Saint Nicholas
do, And then a twinkling I heard on the roof, the brancing and
bawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head and was turning
round down the chimney, Saint Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed
all in fur from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all
tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of toys he had flung on his
back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes,
how they twinkled, his dimples, how merry, his cheeks were like
roses, his nose like a cherry. His droll little mouth was drawn up
like a bow, and the beard of his chin was as white as the
snow, the stump of a pipe pield tight in his teeth, and the
smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and
a little round belly that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of
jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf. And
I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. A wink of his
eye and a twist of his head soon gave me to know I had nothing
to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work
and filled all the stockings. Then turned with a jerk, and laying his
finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod up the chimney, he
rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team, gave a whistle,
and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I
heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight, Happy Christmas to all,
and to all a good night, And of twas the night before Christmas.