Posted on 12/24/2004 3:07:01 PM PST by No Surrender Monkey
Clement Clark Moore was born in New York City in 1779 and, long before his death 84 years later, established a reputation as a scholar.
Stern, even rigid, Moore concentrated in the study of languages (a Hebrew lexicon he compiled was long considered a standard) and was a noted lecturer and writer. A religious man, and one of means, he generously supported theological education — even endowing a seminary.
For all of this, however, Moore's life would merit little more than a footnote in New York's history — except for one thing. He was a poet. Most of his work, to be sure, was thought dull, even plodding. But not the one poem for which he is remembered. Written for his children in 1822, the poem was first published (anonymously) in the Troy, N.Y., Sentinel the following year. It was an instant hit — though Moore didn't claim credit for it until years later.
The poem was, of course, "A Visit From St. Nicholas" ("The Night Before Christmas"). It remains a seasonal 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-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.
(Excerpt) Read more at nypost.com ...
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 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—
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 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 fill'd all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying is 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!"
Merry Christmas.
FMCDH(BITS)
I'm taking a break from sprucing up Mr. M's Santa suit and Little M's elf suit. Every year they play Santa for work and friends. I'll be inspecting their list and packing their bag with goodies and sending them on their merry rounds in an hour.
I like the George C. Scott version :-). And I'm drinking Australian red wine with Diet 7-up. Call me a philistine ...
ping
FMCDH(BITS)
I second that. So does Linus.
Thank you. I love that.
Merry Christmas to all.
Merry Christmas pal. Here's hoping you get back to NYC soon. As you know, I lived in the belly of the beast for many years.
not quite sure who "St. Lunk The Evangelist," but he may have been an associate of Saint Luke, The Evangelist. I'm pretty sure neither were related to Darth Vadar.
I forgot whether I told you. I have been banned from FR. Again. Just so you don't think you have a stalker, you might remember a friend with the initials P9.
Merry Christmas to you, too! Enjoy your movie and beverage :-). (We have "Donovan's Reef" on ... makes us feel a little warmer!)
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