Christmas Classic

Let us learn all about who wrote this classic.  It
was written by the Rev. Clement Clarke Moore ( 1779-1863 ).
He was a professor of Oriental and Greek literature at the
Episcopal General Theological Seminary in New York City.
He wrote this classic for his children, and at first refused to let
it be published because he felt it wasn’t fitting for a Priest to
write, after all it didn’t mention God or Jesus Christ.  After a
while his friends won and he let it be published, thus now we
have this Christmas Classic:

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 snug in their beds,
    While visions of sugar plumbs
    Danced in their heads.
    And Mama in her kerchief,
    And I in my cap
    Had just settled our brains
    For a long winter’s nap

    When out on the roof
    There arose such a clatter,
    I sprang from my bed
    To see what was the matter.
    I flew like a flash,
    Tore open the shutter,
    And through back the sash.

    The moon on the breast
    Of the new fallen snow
    Gave the luster of midday
    To the 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 St. Nick.
    More rapid than eagles,
    His courses they came,
    And he whistles and shouted
    And called then be name:


    To The Top Of The Stairs!
    To The Top Of The Wall!
    Now 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 house-top
    The courses 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 ands 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
    He held 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 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 sprang to his sleigh,
    To his team gave a whistle,
    And away they all fly
    Like the down of a thistle.
    But I heard him exclaim,
    Ere he drove out of sight:

You’re Great-by-Design


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