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Twas The Night Before Christmas by Clement Clarke Moore 1779-1863

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-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
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below
When, what to my wondering 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 whistled, and shouted, and called them by name

"On 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 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 house-top the coursers 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 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 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, and 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 his exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight
'HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT
— Linda Moses, Dec 25, 2008

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: Texas, USA

Favorite Poets: rethinking this. have recently started reading the works of some of the greats, I will comment later

More from this author

Critiques

Robert Melliard

Robert Melliard

17 years 5 months ago

Hi LInda

It's years since I read this poem, but it still sounds as good as ever. Thanks for bringing it back to me. I feel a little fanatical - reading poems and writing comments even on Christmas day (my wife thinks I am obsessed with Neopoet) but I have to do something while waiting for Christmas dinner! Best Wishes, Robert.
Linda Moses

Linda Moses

17 years 5 months ago

Hi, Robert

I was feeling Christmasy. and just had to post the original. Yes, Neopoet can become an obsession, but there are worse things. Thanks for reading and commenting.
weirdelf

weirdelf

17 years 5 months ago

likewise, great to read the original, been too long,

and too much crappy, unoriginal poetry based it. It does of course raise questions about the original Saint Nicholaus, who was not a nice man. And the lie that the date of Christmas has anything to do with Jesus (what can you do with spiritual truth built on lies?). You know I can't help myself, poets must question everything. thanks for this. cheers, Jess
Linda Moses

Linda Moses

17 years 5 months ago

Jess

They don't know for sure Jesus was born December 25, is correct. Better to question than to accept just anything as truth. But I can't help myself,either, I love Jesus Thanks Jess for taking the time to read.
Rett

Rett

17 years 5 months ago

Linda, thank you

not only for posting this which is always beautiful to read, but also, for being you. Thank you my friend. Respectfully, Rett: "Each man is good in the sight of the Great Spirit.." (Sitting Bull)
Linda Moses

Linda Moses

17 years 5 months ago

Rett

Thank you for you kind comments. You know everyone on this site is very fond of you.
MI

Mohammad Yamin Iraqi

17 years 5 months ago

Twas Night Before Christmas

Linda, This is a profound poem. Thanks for posting it. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Happy New Year. -Mohammad
R

R.M.Shanmugam

17 years 5 months ago

A descriptive poem that

A descriptive poem that shows the tallents the writer and that awe the reader.