'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 down 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 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, 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 hand, 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!"
Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus
A famous letter from Virgina O'Hanlon to the editorial staff of The New York Sun, first printed in 1897.
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below,
expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author
is numbered among the friends of The Sun:
Dear Editor---
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa
says, "If you see it in The Sun, it's so." Please tell me the truth, is
there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O'Hanlon
Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by
the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they
see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by
their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or
children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere
insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world
about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the
whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as
love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound
and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary
would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary
as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then,
no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have
no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which
childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in
fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the
chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did
not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees
Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The
most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men
can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not,
but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or
imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the
world.
You tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise
inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the
strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men
that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance,
can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty
and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world
there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from
now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make
glad the heart of childhood.
URL: http://geocities.datacellar.net/bettyannet/stories.html
Date Modified: 05-18-01
