The Night Before Christmas

Clement Clarke Moore was born in 1779. He was an aca­d­e­m­ic, teach­ing Asian and Greek lit­er­a­ture as well as divin­i­ty and bib­li­cal stud­ies at New York City’s Gen­er­al The­o­log­i­cal sem­i­nary which was part of the Protes­tant Epis­co­pal Church. With his inher­it­ed wealth, he was also a land devel­op­er, in par­tic­u­lar in the city area known as Chelsea. He would become a trustee of Colum­bia Col­lege (which became the Uni­ver­si­ty). Ear­ly on he wrote an impor­tant anti-slav­ery pam­phlet. He was also a poet.

His poem, first titled A Vis­it from St. Nico­las, was writ­ten for his chil­dren and pub­lished anony­mous­ly in 1823, appear­ing in a news­pa­per, the Troy (NY) Sen­tinel. It very quick­ly gained wide pop­u­lar­i­ty. Indeed, it has been sug­gest­ed that it is the best-known poem by an American. 

It was not until 1837 that he was iden­ti­fied as the author. Only grad­u­al­ly did it come to be known as The Night Before Christ­mas, which is how most peo­ple know it.

I have absolute­ly no idea when I first heard it, but I can’t recall a time when I ever for­got it. For me — as for count­less oth­ers — it rep­re­sents the essen­tial saga of San­ta Claus and Christ­mas Eve. It was Moore, by the way, who invent­ed the names of those reindeer.

For those who don’t have it at hand, or per­haps don’t know it, here it is.

‘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 sug­arplums 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 lus­ter 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 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!