To All Readers: I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season. Enjoy the poem that follows.Clement Clarke Moore’s A Visit from St. Nicholas.It was the night before Christmas, and not a single creature—not even a mouse—was moving around the house. Carefully, the stockings were hung by the chimney, hoping that St. Nicholas would arrive soon; Mamma in her kerchief and I in my cap had just put our minds to rest for a long winter’s nap when there was a clatter on the lawn. The children were snuggled in their beds, dreaming of sugar plums. I jumped out of the bed to investigate the situation. I flew quickly to the window, ripped open the shutters, and flung up the sash. When and what should appear to my inquiring eyes? But a little sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, accompanied by a little elderly driver who was so active and swift, let me realize instantly that it must be St. Nick. The moon on the breast of the freshly fallen snow gave the objects below the luster of mid-day. And he whistled, yelled, and called them by name; / Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! / On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen! / They arrived faster than eagles his coursers. Reaching the top of the wall! Reaching the top of the porch! Now run! run! run away everyone! / As dried leaves that fly before a fierce hurricane, / When they encounter a barrier, they soar to the sky; / So the coursers flew up to the top of the house, / With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas also. And then, in a flash, I heard each tiny hoof pawing and dancing on the roof. As I turned around and drew in my thoughts, St. Nicholas leaped down the chimney. He had a bundle of toys he had thrown on his back, and he appeared to be a pedler just opening his pack. He was completely covered in fur, from head to foot, and his clothing was soiled with ashes and soot. The way his eyes sparkled! How joyful his dimples are! His nose was like a cherry, and his cheeks were like roses! His tiny, droll mouth was curled into a bow.He had a large face and a small round belly that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. He also had a beard on his chin that was as white as the snow. He clutched a pipe tightly in his teeth, and the smoke around his head like a wreath. He was a big and plump old elf, and despite myself, I grinned when I saw him; a wink of his eye and a head twist soon convinced me that I had nothing to fear; He went straight to work without saying a word, filling all the stockings. Then he turned abruptly, putting his finger aside his nose and nodding as he rose up the chimney. He then sprang to his sleigh, whistled to his team, and they all flew away like thistle down. Before he drove away, though, I heard him say, “Happy Christmas to all, and good-night to all.”
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