#a visit from st nicholas

[adventuresofalgy]

It was Christmas Eve at last, and Algy was safe at home again!

He couldn't have been more happy, or more excited, for his assistants had given him a fluffy stocking to hang up, in the hope that Father Christmas might visit while he slept, and his magic pumpkin, which was beginning to look quite shrivelled, had turned into a beautiful pumpkin candle once more.

Algy settled down on the soft needles of a Christmas tree with his stocking hanging by his side, and did his best to go to sleep, but he found it awfully difficult… He was just too excited! So he tried reciting that most famous of all Christmas poems, written 200 years ago. He hoped that if he recited it very carefully and very slowly it might help to make him drowsy, for he knew that Santa Claus never visited folk who were wide awake:

'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 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 Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below, When, what to my wondering eyes did 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.

[Algy is of course reciting the opening verses of the early 19th century poem A Visit from St. Nicholas, which is more often called The Night Before Christmas. The poem was first published anonymously in 1823 and its author is uncertain.]

[thattowntertainment]

Winter holidays are a time for otherworld mischief; even before CC Moore [allegedly] penned his little rhyme.

We did a parody of that.

We also have this year’s Horrorama playlist.

Happy holidays to all and have a good fright.

[inamindfarfaraway]

A Visit From the Dark Knight

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and Gotham was calm,

Without even the blare of the Arkham alarm.

The city looked beautiful, dusted with snow.

But where were its heroes when crime was so slow? 

Oh, they were busy; their plan would ensure

That no child went wanting, no matter how poor.

Oracle - who sees not much less than Santa -

Had plotted the paths they each took, trading banter.

Now, Robin! Now, Batgirl! Now, Black Bat and Nightwing!

Leaping across streets and on rooftops alighting!

On, Red Robin! On, Signal, to the Narrows!

Away they all went, just as speedy as arrows!

Up and down Park Row, children shivering in rags

Would awake to Red Hood’s bountiful gift bags.

In the East End, Catwoman and Catgirl raced

To have every kid’s present purr-fectly placed.

Huntress fired stockings with her trusty crossbow.

Batwing soared overhead, dropping presents below.

No slum, shelter or shanty missed a donation,

Funded by the Martha Wayne Foundation 

(Or in Catwoman’s case, she’d rather not say, 

But Lex Luthor did lately have quite a bad day).

Batman himself carried over his shoulder

A Bat-sack of toys as big as a boulder.

No crisis or crime could have given him pause,

But a small murmur of “You’re not Santa Claus” 

Froze him in his tracks. In a thin, shabby nightgown,

A little girl stood and was staring him right down.

Not scared, but confused, because surely tonight 

Batman could rest with St Nick taking flight.

Could he not afford this one night off a year?

And of all parts of Gotham, why would he be here? 

Well, Batman crouched down and said, "I know it's strange.

Us heroes are doing Christmas for a change.

Santa Claus is having a night in this year.

Superman lives next door; it was his idea. 

I’ve left you some presents, but you mustn’t peek,

And you needn’t worry about food this week.

Although I'm afraid I haven't been as good. 

I just woke you up, while Santa never would. 

So let’s keep this between you and me, understand?”

She swore that she would and shook his gloved hand.

But then she asked softly, “Don’t you want to be

Back at home, safe and warm with your family?” 

He thought of his mansion, his riches, his gold,

And his loved ones out spreading joy in the cold.

He met the girl's eyes and felt no need to bluff.

“My family is Gotham, and I’m warm enough.” 

Batman, whose piercing, unwavering glare

Could flood wicked hearts with terror and despair,

Was smiling, though that may be hard to believe;

For he was the night - and it was Christmas Eve. 

[sakuragozen-345]

A visit from St Nicholas by Clement Moore

[mysterious-secret-garden]

Thomas Nast - A Visit from St Nicholas, 1860s.

[holidays-events]

A Visit From St Nicholas 🎅 By Clement Clark Moore

A Visit from St. Nicholas, more commonly known as The Night Before Christmas and 'Twas the Night Before Christmas from its first line, is a poem first published anonymously under the title Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas in 1823 and later attributed to Clement Clarke Moore, who claimed authorship in 1837. The poem has been called "arguably the best-known verses ever written by an American" and is largely responsible for some of the conceptions of Santa Claus from the mid-nineteenth century to today. It has had a massive effect on the history of Christmas gift-giving. Before the poem gained wide popularity, American ideas had varied considerably about Saint Nicholas and other Christmastide visitors. A Visit from St. Nicholas eventually was set to music and has been recorded by many artists.

Plot On the night of Christmas Eve, a family is settling down to sleep when the father is awakened by noises on their lawn. Looking out the window, he sees Santa Claus (Saint Nicholas) in a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer. After landing his sleigh on the roof, Santa gets down the chimney. He carries a sack of toys, and the father watches his visitor deliver presents and fill the stockings  hanging by the fireplace, and laughs to himself. They share a conspiratorial moment before Santa bounds up the chimney again. As he flies away, Santa calls out "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

Legacy and Honors

In 1911, the Church of the Intercession in Manhattan started a service on the Sunday before Christmas that included a reading of the poem followed by a procession to Moore's tomb at Trinity Church Cemetery on the Sunday before Christmas. This continues until this day.

Clement Clarke Moore Park, located at 10th Avenue and 22nd Street in Chelsea, is named after Moore.

A playground opened in the park November 22, 1968, and was named for Moore by local law the following year. In 1995 it was fully renovated, and new trees were added. Local residents gather annually there on the last Sunday of Advent for a reading of "Twas the Night Before Christmas".

PS13 in Elmhurst, Queens is named after Clement C. Moore.

Clement Clarke Moore (July 15, 1779 – July 10, 1863) was an American writer, scholar and real estate developer. He is best known as author of the Christmas poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas."

[apocalyp-tech-a]

'Tis the season 😉 for a reminder of my own holiday take on The Bad Batch. Done in the style of 'A Visit from St. Nicholas' by Clement Clarke Moore ('Twas the nIght before...),' the Batch celebrates Life Day with the Wookiees on Kashyyyk. Read on Ao3: 🎄🎄TECHING AROUND THE 🔵LIFE DAY🔵 TREE🎄🎄

TECHING AROUND THE LIFE DAY TREE

‘Twas the rotation before Life Day and all through the Marauder,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a Mouse droid-er.  [Lol.]

After exchanging stories about Rex and Cody of yore,

Echo and Hunter fell asleep at the comms and softly snored.

Crosshair up on his rack, a toothpick dangling from his lips,

And Wrecker on his, holding Lula in his gentle giant grip.

Last, but not least, Tech settled in the cockpit’s pilot chair,

Where the lights of the dash and hyperspace flickered in his goggles with flare.

(continued on ao3)

[ashleywritesstuff]

A Christmas Eve bedtime story from my Queen, Gwendoline Christie.

[haveyoureadthispoem-poll]

"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."

Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

Reposting (rather than reblogging) my "A Visit From Saint Nicholas is a Dream Narrative" analysis.

(Originally posted 20 December, 2018)

Now, that’s far from proof that Santa Claus is fake (we can certainly have dreams about real people and real events). But it does ... loosen ... the scope of possibilities of how Santa Claus really fulfills his mission, each year (For example, the sleigh and reindeer, and chimney, may all be open to negotiation)

Here, let me break the poem down, and show you how I figured this out:

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 our brains for a long winter's nap.

So, the narrator and his family are already in bed and, if he himself is not sound asleep, yet, he’s certainly starting to drift off...

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.

Wait a minute -- his wife is in the room with him.  If this were really happening in the waking world, wouldn’t she wake up when he opens the window in the middle of the night, and lets in all that cold air (and yell at him for it)? I would.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer, With a little old driver* so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he 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 leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the housetop 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.

Okay, this whole thing started in the narrator’s bedroom... And now we’re in the main parlor (I think)? I mean, granted, bedrooms had their own fireplaces, back then. But would the children have hung their stockings on their parents’ private mantle? That seems odd for the waking world. But the sudden shift of location like this happens all the time, in dreams.

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 on his chin was as white as the snow.

His clothes were covered in soot (from all that chimney bounding), but his beard was pristine (calling back to the snow imagery from before)?

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, 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 of a thistle.

If this were happening in the waking world, there is no way the narrator could see Saint Nick get into his sleigh, and it would be very hard, if not impossible, for the narrator to see the sleigh flying away from the roof, while he’s still inside the room.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— “Happy Christmas** to all, and to all a good night!”

*That explains how he can fit down the chimney so easily: the literary source that gave us the chimney bit of lore also made him tiny enough to fit. It's the fact that we now have fully grown humans acting as Santa Claus's representatives every year that brings in the complications.

**This video, from clothing and fashion historian Abby Cox, explains why this particular version of Santa Claus says "Happy Christmas" instead of Merry Christmas. (~35 minutes. Eye contact. Proper closed captions. BetterHelp sponsorship)

[nemuofthesleep]

Merry Christmas Eve~! 🎄

[dewitty1]

A Visit from St. Nicholas

BY CLEMENT CLARKE MOORE

x

'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 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,

Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer,

With a little old driver so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment he 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 leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the housetop 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 pedler 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 on 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,

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 of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Source: The Random House Book of Poetry for Children (Random House Inc., 1983)

[travsd]

200 Years of "'Twas the Night Before Christmas"

As we reported back on St. Nicholas Day, today marks the 200th anniversary of the first publication of the Clement Clarke Moore poem A Visit from St, Nicholas, or ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. It was first published, unattributed, in the Troy Sentinel on December 23, 1823. Moore had written the poem for his children. Family friends borrowed the manuscript and submitted it to the newspaper,…

[smashpages]

Courtesy of Archie Comics, here's a preview of one of the new stories that'll appear in World of Archie Jumbo Comics Digest #135, which will arrives Nov. 22. It is a fun one, as writer Tom DeFalco, artists Steven Butler and Jim Amash, colorist Glenn Whitmore and letterer Jack Morelli pay tribute to a Christmas classic. A Visit from St. Nicholas, the poem by Clement Clarke Moore, gets turned on its head as Pureheart the Powerful and Pow-Girl hear the “clatter” of super-villain activity before Christmas.

[alphareleasemedia]

A Visit From St. Nicholas -- 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 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, Gave the luster of midday 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 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 pedlar 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 he 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 of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

[propicsmedia]

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