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NV  PUBLC  LIBRAHY     THE  BRANCH  LIBRARIES 


3  3333  05967  6508 


THE        :ILDREN'S  ROOM 

CENTER 

20  VEST  53  STREET 
ITCH&,  N.Y.  10019 


A' 


Iwas  the  ^igntvefore  Christmas 

3t  Visit  from  St. "Nicholas 

T3y  Clement  C. Moore 


With  Pictures  by  Jessie  Willcox  Smith 

Houghton^fifflin  Compaqy 
"Boston  and  ~Kcw  York 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY  HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

ATT.  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THE  RIGHT  TO  REPRODUCE 
THIS  BOOK  OR  PARTS  THEREOF  IN  ANY  FORM 


tEfje  KiUcrsifir  Press 

CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED  IN  THE  U.S.A. 


PROPERTY  OF  THB 
CITY  OF  NEW  YORK 

INTRODUCTION 


I  ^ 


AS  ft 


MID  the  many  celebrations  last  Christmas  Eve,  in  various  places 
by  different  persons,  there  was  one,  in  New  York  City,  not  like 
any  other  anywhere.  A  company  of  men,  women,  and  children 
went  together  just  after  the  evening  service  in  their  church,  and, 
standing  around  the  tomb  of  the  author  of  "A  Visit  from  St. 
Nicholas,"  recited  together  the  words  of  the  poem  which  we  all 
know  so  well  and  love  so  dearly. 

Dr.  Clement  C.  Moore,  who  wrote  the  poem,  never  expected 
that  he  would  be  remembered  by  it.  If  he  expected  to  be  famous  at  all  as  a  writer,  he 
thought  it  would  be  because  of  the  Hebrew  Dictionary  that  he  wrote. 

He  was  born  in  a  house  near  Chelsea  Square,  New  York  City,  in  1781;  and  he  lived 
there  all  his  life.  It  was  a  great  big  house,  with  fireplaces  in  it;  --  just  the  house  to  be 
living  in  on  Christmas  Eve. 

Dr.  Moore  had  children.  He  liked  writing  poetry  for  them  even  more  than  he  liked 
writing  a  Hebrew  Dictionary.  He  wrote  a  whole  book  of  poems  for  them. 

One  year  he  wrote  this  poem,  which  we  usually  call  ';'T  was  the  Night  before  Christ- 
mas," to  give  to  his  children  for  a  Christmas  present.  They  read  it  just  after  they  had 


hung  up  their  stockings  before  one  of  the  big  fireplaces  in  their  house.   Afterward,  they 
learned  it,  and  sometimes  recited  it,  just  as  other  children  learn  it  and  recite  it  now. 

It  was  printed  in  a  newspaper.  Then  a  magazine  printed  it,  and  after  a  time  it  was 
printed  in  the  school  readers.  Later  it  was  printed  by  itself,  with  pictures.  Then  it  was 
translated  into  German,  French,  and  many  other  languages.  It  was  even  made  into 
"Braille";  which  is  the  raised  printing  that  blind  children  read  with  their  fingers.  But 
never  has  it  been  given  to  us  in  so  attractive  a  form  as  in  this  book.  It  has  happened  that 
almost  all  the  children  in  the  world  know  this  poem.  How  few  of  them  know  any  Hebrew! 

Every  Christmas  Eve  the  young  men  studying  to  be  ministers  at  the  General  Theologi- 
cal Seminary,  New  York  City,  put  a  holiy  wreath  around  Dr.  Moore's  picture,  which  is  on 
the  wall  of  their  dining-room.  Why?  Because  he  gave  the  ground  on  which  the  General 
Theological  Seminary  stands?  Because  he  wrote  a  Hebrew  Dictionary?  No.  They  do 
it  because  he  was  the  author  of  "A  Visit  from  St.  Nicholas." 

Most  of  the  children  probably  know  the  words  of  the  poem.  They  are  old.  But  the 
pictures  that  Miss  Jessie  Willcox  Smith  has  painted  for  this  edition  of  it  are  new.  All  the 
children,  probably,  have  seen  other  pictures  painted  by  Miss  Smith,  showing  children  at 
other  seasons  of  the  year.  How  much  they  will  enjoy  looking  at  these  pictures,  showing 
children  on  that  night  that  all  children  like  best,  —  Christmas  Eve! 

E.  McC. 


'T  was  the  Night  before  Christmas 


WAS  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 ; 


HE  children  were  nestled  all  snug  in  their  beds, 
While  visions  of  sugar- pi  urns  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, 


HEN  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. 


HE  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, 


ITH  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; 


OW,  Dasher!  now,  Dancer!  now,  Prancerand  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! ' 


S  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. 


XD  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  chimnev  St.  Nicholas  came  with  a  bound. 


E  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  pedler  just  opening  his  pack. 


IS  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; 


HE  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. 


E  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; 


E  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; 


-iii- 


E  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. "