a Christmas Classic………..

First of all, 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:

About Roger Overweg

Interest include: Nature photography, Detroit Tigers, I'm a Spiritual, Meditative, analysis, Divorce, Spirituality, Weather, Chicago Cubs, Talk radio, Lighthouses, Medicine, Meditation, Hiking, Fishing, Short wave radio, Bible, Holy Bible, News, Newspapers, Photography, Baseball, God, Jesus, Holy Spirit, Coffee, Prayer, Freash-water-fish-aquarium. Reading, Books, Lakes, Streams, Dunes, Devotionals, Philosophy
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