Christmas Poems
and Stories
A Visit From
Saint Nickolas
by Clement Clarke 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 their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums
danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief,
and I in my cap,
Had just settled down 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 luster 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,
DONNER 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 hand, 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 bowl full 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,
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 of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim,
as he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL,
AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT."
Christmas Is
Remembering...
by Hilda Butler Farr
Christmas is remembering.
. .
The road to Santa Claus,
The blessed time of childhood
That meant so much. . .
because
It held the tinseled magic
Of fairyland array,
When all the world was laughter.
. .
And life was only play.
Christmas is remembering.
. .
A tree ablaze with light,
The family gathered closely
And knowing deep delight.
Exchanging gifts and sharing,
The gaiety and song
That star the festive season.
. .
Each time it comes along.
Christmas is remembering.
. .
Our friends who're far and
near,
By giving and receiving.
. .
A season always dear.
The mistletoe and holly,
As scarlet tapers glow,
The Christ Child in a manger.
. .
So very long ago.
The Most Beautiful
Thing
Author Unknown
The sides of the path were
covered with rugs of white snow. But in the center, its whiteness was crushed
and churned into a foaming brown by the tramp, tramp of hundreds of hurrying
feet. It was the day before Christmas. People rushed up and down the path
carrying armloads of bundles. They laughed and called to each other as
they pushed their way through the crowds.
Above the path, the long
arms of an ancient tree reached upward to the sky. It swayed and moaned
as strong winds grasped its branches and bent them toward the earth. Down
below a haughty laugh sounded, and a lovely fir tree stretched and preened
its thick green branches, sending a fine spray of snow shimmering downward
to the ground.
"I should think," said the
fir in a high smug voice, "That you'd try a little harder to stand still.
Goodness knows you're ugly enough with the leaves you've already lost.
If you move around anymore, you'll soon be quite bare."
"I know," answered the old
tree. "Everything has put on its most beautiful clothes for the celebration
of the birth of Christ. Even from here I can see the decorations shining
from each street corner. And yesterday some men came and put the brightest,
loveliest lights on every tree along the path--except me of course." He
sighed softly, and a flake of snow melted in the form of a teardrop and
ran down his gnarled trunk.
"Oh, indeed! And did you
expect they'd put lights upon you so your ugliness would stand out even
more?" smirked the fir.
"I guess you're right," replied
the old tree in a sad voice. "If there were only somewhere I could hide
until after the celebrations are over, but here I stand, the only ugly
thing among all this beauty. If they would only come and chop me down,"
and he sighed sorrowfully.
"Well, I don't wish you any
ill will," replied the fir, "But you are an eyesore. Perhaps it would be
better for us all if they came and chopped you down." Once again he stretched
his lovely thick branches. "You might try to hang onto those three small
leaves you still have. At least you wouldn't be completely bare."
"Oh, I've tried so hard,"
cried the old tree "Each fall I say to myself, 'this year I won't give
up a single leaf, no matter what the cause,' but someone always comes along
who seems to need them more than I," And he sighed once again.
"I told you not to give so
many to that dirty little paper boy," said the fir. "Why you even lowered
your branches a little bit, so that he could reach them. You can't say
I didn't warn you then."
"Yes you did at that," the
old tree replied. "But they made him so happy. I heard him say he would
pick some for his invalid mother."
"Oh, they all had good causes,"
mocked the fir, that young girl, for instance, colored leaves for her party
indeed! They were your leaves!"
"She took a lot, didn't she?"
said the old tree, and he seemed to smile.
Just then a cold wind blew
down the path and a tiny brown bird fell to the ground at the foot of the
old tree and lay there shivering, too cold to lift its wings. The old tree
looked down in pity and then he quickly let go of his last three leaves.
The golden leaves fluttered down and settled softly over the shivering
little bird, and it lay there quietly under the warmth of them.
"Now you've done it!" shrieked
the fir. You've given away every single leaf! Christmas morning you'll
make your path the ugliest sight in the whole city!"
The old tree said nothing.
Instead he stretched out his branches to gather what snowflakes he could
that they might not fall on the tiny bird. The young fir turned away in
anger, and it was then he noticed a painter sitting quietly a few feet
from the path, intent upon his long brushes and his canvas. His clothes
were old and tattered, and his face wore a sad expression. He was thinking
of his loved ones and the empty, cheerless Christmas morning they would
face, for he had sold not a single painting in the last months.
But the little tree didn't
see this. Instead he turned back to the old tree and said in a haughty
voice, "At least keep those bare branches as far away from me as possible.
I'm being painted and hideousness will mar the background."
"I'll try," replied the old
tree. And he raised his branches as high as possible. It was almost dark
when the painter picked up his easel and left. And the little fir was tired
and cross from all his preening and posing.
Christmas morning he awoke
late, and as he proudly shook away the snow from his lovely branches, he
was amazed to see a huge crowd of people surrounding the old tree, ah-ing
and oh-ing as they stood back and gazed upward. And even those hurrying
along the path had to stop for a moment to sigh before they went on.
"Whatever could it be?" thought
the haughty fir, and he too looked up to see if perhaps the top of the
old tree had been broken off during the night.
Just then a paper blew away
from the hands of an enraptured newsboy and sailed straight into the young
fir. The fir gasped in amazement, for there on the front page was a picture
of the painter holding his painting of a great white tree whose leafless
branches, laden with snow, stretched upward into the sky. While down below
lay a tiny brown bird almost covered by three golden leaves. And beneath
the picture were the words, "The Most Beautiful Thing Is That Which Hath
Given All."
The young fir quietly bowed
its head beneath the great beauty of the humble old tree
Dear Santa...
Author Unknown
Snowflakes softly falling
Upon your window play,
Your blankets snug around
you,
into sleep you drift away.
I bend to gently kiss you,
when I see that on the floor
There's a letter, neatly
written
I wonder who it's for.
I quietly unfold it
making sure you're still
asleep,
It's a Christmas list for
Santa--
one my heart will always
keep.
It started just as always
with the toys seen on TV,
A new watch for your father
and a winter coat for me.
But as my eyes read on
I could see that deep inside
There were many things you
wished for
that your loving heart would
hide.
You asked if your friend
Molly
could have another dad;
It seems her father hits
her
and it makes you very sad.
Then you asked dear Santa
if the neighbors down the
street
Could find a job, that he
might have
some food, and clothes,
and heat.
You saw a family on the
news
whose house had blown away;
"Dear Santa, send them just
one thing:
a place where they can stay."
"And Santa, those four cookies
that
I left you for a treat,
Could you take them to the
children
who have nothing else to
eat?"
"Do you know that little
bear I have--
the one I love so dear?
I'm leaving it for you to
take
to Africa this year."
"And as you fly your reindeer
on this night of Jesus''
birth,
Could your magic bring to
everyone
goodwill and peace on earth?"
"There's one last thing
before you go--
so grateful I would be--
If you'd smile at Baby Jesus
in the manger by our tree."
I pulled the letter close
to me;
I felt it melt my heart.
Those tiny hands had written
what no other could impart.
"And a little child shall
lead them,"
was whispered in my ear
As I watched you sleep on
Christmas Eve
while Santa Claus was here.
Everything
to know about Santa
In the United States and
Canada, his name is Santa Claus. He flies through the sky in a sleigh pulled
by eight reindeer.
In England his name is Father
Christmas. He looks much like Santa Claus, but he has a longer coat and
a longer beard.
In France, he's known as
Pere Noel. He is also called Pere Noel in Canada.
In Brazil and Peru, he's
called Papai Noel.
In Germany, children get
presents from Christkind, the Christ Child on the 24th of December. Also,
in Germany Knecht Ruprecht and his helpers come on the 6th of December.
Krampus brings coal or a wooden stick to the children that have not been
good, Knecht Ruprecht brings mostly cookies, nuts and a small toy to the
good children.
In Poland, Santa is "Gwiazdor"
("star man") -- for the North Star. He visits children on Christmas Eve,
bringing presents. The Christmas Eve meal begins once the first star is
seen. "Swiety Mikolaj" (Saint Nicholas) was a cardinal in the Catholic
Church, but he visits the children on December 5th.
In Costa Rica, Colombia,
and parts of Mexico, the gift bringer is El Nino Jesus, "the infant Jesus."
In Puerto Rico, children
receive gifts from the Three Kings on January 6th. Each child puts grass
under their bed for the camels and in the morning the grass is replaced
with gifts.
Jultomten or Tomten Sweden.
Jultomten visits in the evening before Christmas day, pulling a big bag
of julklappar (Christmas presents) in the deep snow.
På norsk ( in Norwegian)
"Julenissen" arrives on the evening of the 24th.
In the Netherlands, he is
called Kerstman. He flies through the sky with his reindeers and puts gifts
under the Christmas tree on the 25th of December. De Kerstman lives in
Finland. His counterpart "Sinterklaas" is another saint, who is celebrated
on the 5th of December. Sinterklaas comes back every year from his home
in Spain by steamboat, together with him are a whole group of "zwarte pieten"
who help him while he's riding on the roofs - distributing gifts through
the chimney.
In Finland, he is called
Joulupukki and his home is in Lapland in the north part of Finland called
Korvatunturl. Also in Finland, the Swedish-speaking Finns (finlandssvenskar)
call him Julgubben.
In Spain the children the
night of January 5th put their shoes under the Christmas tree and have
presents from the Three Kings (Los Reyes Magos: Melchor, Gaspar and Baltasar).
Santa Claus is called Papa Noel and there are children who have presents
both days on December 25th (from Papa Noel) and on January 6th (from the
Three Kings).
In Russia, he is called Grandfather
Frost or Ded Moroz.
He is also called Kriss Kringle
- origin unknown.
He is also called St. Nick
origin Turkey.
Karácsony Apó,
is Santa in Hungarian.
In Italy, he is called Babbo
Natale.
Black Peter, St Nick's helper
which originates from Morocco or Liberia.
In China, he is called Shengdan
Laoren.
In Denmark they call him,
Julemand.
In Hong Kong they call him
Sing dan lo ian in Cantonese.
In Slovenia they call him
Bozicek.
In Latvia Santa Claus is
called Ziemmassve'tku veci'tis.
In the country Uruguay he
is called Feliz Navidad.
In Lithuania Santa Claus
is called Kaledu Senis.
In Portugal Santa Claus is
known as Pai Natal. He brings presents on Christmas Eve. However, the portuguese
tradition says the presents in that night are brought by the Newborn Jesus
Menino Jesus.
In Estonia he is called Jouluvana.
In Ireland he is called Santa
Claus and children abbreviate this to just Santy.
Many children in the Hindu
religion receive gifts from their god Ganesha during the Holiday Season.
In Austria, children get
presents from Christkindl, the Christ Child on the 24th of December.
In Greece, Santa Claus is
called "Aghios Vassilis" and he comes on the night of 31st December leaving
the presents under the tree for the children to find them on New Year's
Day.
In Hawaii, Santa Claus is
known as Kanakaloka.
In Armenian, Santa Clause
is Gaghant Baba and he brings presents to all the good girls and boys.
The name for Santa in Yugoslavia
is Deda Mraz.
In Croatia, he is called
Bozicnjak.
In Bulgaria they call him
Diado Coleda.
