'Twas the Night Before Christmas

"Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."

This poem (full verses below) was written in 1823 and published in a New York City newspaper, becoming an immediate hit. Its author, Clement Clarke Moore, did not confess ownership until 21 years later in 1844. Mr. Moore was a professor at Columbia College (now Columbia University) and he preferred anonymity, but finally relented due to family pressure.

Mr. Moore's family was a prominent one at the time. His father had been the Bishop of New York City and officiated at the inauguration of George Washington as the first president; his mother was famous for her rabid anti-monarchy views in pre-revolutionary times. Clement himself, married Catharine Elizabeth Taylor, a direct descendant of the powerful Dutch family, the Van Cortlandt's. Together, he and his wife owned 160 acres on the western side of Manhattan which they called Chelsea; the area they owned is still called Chelsea today.

"A Visit from St. Nicholas," as his poem was called, established Santa Claus and his image, as well as the reindeer, their number and names, the way the "jolly old elf" gets around, and the idea that Santa brings gifts to children. Prior to 1823. there were many ideas about St. Nicholas, but none like this.

While many of us have read this to our children, we also recognize the great gift that was given to all -- the gift from God of a baby in a manger who would grow to become the fulfillment of the prophesies of the Old Testament. From the latest Gallup Poll ...

• 95% of Americans celebrate Christmas;
• 51% say the day is "strongly religious" for them;
• 93% of Americans exchange gifts on Christmas;
• 88% put up a Christmas tree;
• 62% attend religious services on Christmas Eve or Christmas.

Following a tradition established when I was born, 68 years ago, I will be in church tonight. Yet the duality of the celebration is brought home simply by hearing sleigh bells.

A joyous holiday season to all. Merry Christmas to you and yours, "and to all, a good night!"

"A Visit From St. Nicholas"
by Clement Clarke Moore, 1823

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.

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 tinny 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, 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 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 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 bowlful 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 filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
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!"