Part 5 (1/2)
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the l.u.s.ter 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. 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 on a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, ”_Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night_.”
CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE.
THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.
O! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming-- Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming!
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; O! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?
On that sh.o.r.e dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now s.h.i.+nes on the stream; 'Tis the star-spangled banner; O long may it wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps, pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, And this be our motto--”_In G.o.d is our trust_”: And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.
FATHER WILLIAM.
”Father William” a parody by Lewis Carroll (1833-), is even more clever than the original. Harmless fun brightens the world. It takes a real genius to create wit that carries no sting.