 VOA Learning English presents a visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clark 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. It 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 Mama, in her kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter snap. 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 luster of midday to objects below. When what, to my wondering eye, did appear but a miniature sleigh and ate 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 cursors they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name. Now Dasher, now Dancer. Now Prancer, and Vixen. On Comet on Cupid. And Donner. And Blitzen. To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall. Now Dasher away, Dasher away, Dasher away all. As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet an obstacle mount to the sky. So up to the housetop the cursors 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 fly 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 bull, 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 bull 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 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.