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CHRISTMAS

Then again I sing 'till the roof doth ring,

And it echoes from wall to wall —

To the stout old wight, fair welcome to-night,

As the King of the Seasons all!

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A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS

CLEMENT C. MOORE

'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 theirbeds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced through their heads;

And mamma 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 my 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,