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 DANC'D IN THEIR HEADS,
AND MAMA IN HER 'KERCHIEF, AND I IN MY CAP,
HAD JUST SETTLED OUR BRAINS 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,
CONTINUED AFTER MY LONG WINTER'S NAP
BOB-CLAUS
No comments:
Post a Comment