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Cross stitch design by Lois Winston
featured in the December 2002 issue of The Cross Stitcher magazine
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A VISIT FROM
ST. NICHOLAS
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 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 coursers 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 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 the
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 bowlful 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, then 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
him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy
Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"