"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. Nicolas soon would be there; the children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads."
Clement Clark Moore wrote "A Visit from St Nicholas" for his six children on Christmas Eve in 1822. It was published for the first time on Dec. 23, 1823. The poem is more widely known as the Christmas favorite "Twas the Night Before Christmas."
It is said Moore wrote the poem during a sleigh ride home from Greenwich Village after buying a turkey for the family's dinner.
Most assuredly, Mr. Moore's sleigh was a wooden sled pulled by horses over frozen lakes and through white woods covered in snow, a far cry from the one described in the fourth verse of his famous poem as a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.
Today, a person can still experience the unique thrill of riding on a horse-drawn sled in frigid winter weather. The Adirondack Mountains, among the oldest in the entire world, have companies that offer these rides using Clydesdale and Belgian draft horses.
Moore's poem describes St. Nicholas (aka Santa Claus) as "chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf," with twinkling eyes, a red snub nose and a white beard. "He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly."
During the 20th century and carrying on into the 21st century, there have been Christmas plays and cantatas that emphasize the real meaning of Christmas, the birth of Jesus, savior of the whole world, by displaying manger scenes. Afterward, Santa Claus hands out gifts of bagged fruit and candy from under the Christmas tree.
For a quick second, the lights are dimmed. Much to the children's awe, surprise and delight, when the lights flick back on, a happy Santa Claus, with a hearty "ho, ho, ho," bounds into the room with a sack on his back filled with goodies for the boys and girls.
Some smaller ones, so taken aback by the rotund, all-dressed-in-red person, cry and cling to their mothers' skirts, while older ones can't wait for him to call their names. Some will tear into their packages immediately while others will wait, taking them home to place under their Christmas trees with other gifts until the big day.
The last verse in Moore's poem says, "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, ere he drove out of sight, 'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!'"
My sentiments exactly! Merry Christmas!
Jean Tanner is a lifelong resident of rural Bluffton. She can be reached at jstmeema@hargray.com.
