This time of year , thoughts of presents appear . We wonder of the perfect gift for our loved ones ... perhaps it isn ’ t made of plastic , electronic or wood , or any wrapped gifts that come by the tons . Maybe it is this story that they would like to hear , read by a person that they love so dear .
A VISIT FROM ST . NICHOLAS
BY 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 my 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 a luster of midday to objects below , When what to my wondering eyes did appear , But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer , With a little old driver so lively and quick , I knew in a moment he 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 leaves that before the wild hurricane fly , When they meet with an obstacle , mount to the sky ; So up to the housetop 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 .