By Clement Clarke Moore ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there ;
The children were nestled all close in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ;
And ma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down 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 count.
aside to the windowpane I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the girdle .
The daydream on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sled, and eight tiny caribou ,
With a little old driver, so alert and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by list ;
“ now, DASHER ! now, DANCER ! now, PRANCER and VIXEN !
On, COMET ! on CUPID ! on, DONNER and BLITZEN !
To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall !
now dash aside ! dash away ! dash away all ! ”
As dry leaves that before the crazy hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, hop on to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sled fully of toys, and St. Nicholas excessively.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prance and paw of each little hoof.
As I drew in my pass, and was turning about,
Down the lamp chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound .
He was dressed all in fur, from his headway to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and carbon black ;
A pile of miniature he had flung on his spinal column,
And he looked like a peddler precisely opening his pack .
His eyes — how they twinkled ! his dimples how alert !
His impudence were like roses, his nose like a cherry !
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the byssus of his chin was equally blank as the snow ;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his promontory like a wreath ;
He had a across-the-board grimace and a short round belly,
That judder, when he laughed like a bowl of gelatin.

He was chubby and plummet, a proper jolly boat old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in cattiness of myself ;
A wink of his eye and a eddy of his forefront,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ;
He spoke not a word, but went directly to his cultivate,
And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger away of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose ;
He sprang to his sled, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the gloomy of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT !

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