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By Clement C. 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; |
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| 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 rein-deer, |
| 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; |
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| "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 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 -- |
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| 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 look'd like a pedlar 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; |
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| 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 bowlfull 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 fill'd all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, |
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Merry Christmas |
| 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." |
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