'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, 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!"’ His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, 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 !" 290 FAIR flower, that shunn'st the glare of day, To evening's hues of silver grey Be thine the offering, owing long To thee, and to this pensive hour, Of one brief tributary song, Though transient as thy flower. I love to watch at silent eve Thy scatter'd blossoms' lonely light, And have my inmost heart receive The influence of that sight. I love at such an hour to mark Their beauty greet the night-breeze chill, And shine, 'mid shadows gathering dark, The garden's glory still. For such 'tis sweet to think the while, When cares and griefs the breast invade, Is friendship's animating smile In sorrow's dark'ning shade. Thus it bursts forth, like thy pale cup- But still more animating far, If meek Religion's eye may trace The hope, that as thy beauteous bloom |