On December 23, 1823, “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” written by Clement Clarke Moore, was published. Today this poem is widely loved and recognized as, “T’was the Night Before Christmas.”
I invite you to reread the entire poem in its original form:
It’s no surprise this has been a classic for two hundred years.
Here are a few of my favorite parts:
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,
Holiday preparations have overtaken this entire household, except Poppa. I definitely can relate. Today’s current sleeping attire might lean more to matching family pajamas, rather than kerchiefs or caps. A snuggly trend I certainly support.
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,
My heartbeat quickens with each stanza as the surprising scene unfolds. Are your eyes blinking? Is your jaw dropping, as the poet describes this most unusual team?
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
“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!”
Can you hear St. Nick’s whistle? Feel the winter cold burning your cheeks? Does something within you jerk to attention when St. Nick calls out the reindeer’s names?
Definitely gets the heart pumping and my feet ready to do some dashing!
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof,
His eyes— how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
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;
And now, we become part of the secret. We are co-conspirators to the impartation of joy.
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
This phenomenal performance began with a whistle and now the whistle alerts me that St. Nick’s mission is complete. Just one thing left…
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”
Wishing you and yours a very blessed Christmas!
Sue Agauas 