| 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 DONDER 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. Nicolas, too.
, AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!