Night before christmas moore sr
T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, or 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 snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced
in their heads. And Mama in her kerchief, and I in my cap, had just hettled 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 in the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of a midday to objects below, when what am I wondering I should appear, but a miniature sleigh and a tiny reindeer. With little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles, his coarsers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called
them by name. Now, Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen, to the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all. As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount
to the sky, so up to the housetop the coarsers they flew, with a sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof, as I drew in my head and was turning around. Down the chimney St. 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 jaw a 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 beheld 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 bore 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 failed all the stockings then turned with the jerk, and laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod at 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.
