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With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;. On, Comet!
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To the top of the porch! Now dash away! 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 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;.oqimubijyr.tk
Personalized 'Twas the Night Before Christmas Children's Book
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 bowlful 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;. 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 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.
On, Comet! To the top of the porch! Now dash away! 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.
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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!
Twas The Night Before Christmas
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 bowlful of jelly.
Each of these elements of the narrative is given significant attention and the poem nicely renders the whole incident as both real and magical. In short, it was, and continues to be, the perfect Christmas poem for a nation that values quasi-historical myths, the home as a place of warmth and safety, and unanticipated acts of benevolence.
Nicholas had smoked his pipe, he twisted it in his hatband, and laying his finger beside his nose, gave the astonished Van Kortlandt a very significant look; then, mounting his wagon, he returned over the tree-tops and disappeared. Because Moore was a highly educated man, he would have been completely capable of faithfully rendering the Dutch story of Sinterklaas if that had been his point.
If we based our assessments of art on those things, I think we all know we would never have the pleasure of looking at another Picasso painting or of reading another poem by Ezra Pound again. Moore was what today we would call part of the 1 percent. What that means circa in New York City is that he owned a huge amount of ancestral land in what today is the neighborhood of Chelsea and was inordinately wealthy because of it.
Because he was an academic his primary post was as American Professor of Oriental and Greek Literature as well as Divinity and Biblical Learning at the General Theological Seminary of the Protestant Episcopal Church , we might assume he used all that money and power to do good things for the people of New York.
“Twas the Night Before Christmas” and J.R.R. Tolkien’s Tinfang Warble
But no. Moore was incredibly disdainful and, I would argue, fearful of the lower classes and of any form of social good or charity that was meant to make their lives better. And he held slaves.
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In , New York had passed a gradual emancipation act that freed all children born into slavery and that ensured freedom for all slaves by Moore held onto his slaves until the bitter end and was an outspoken opponent of abolition until his death in Some people treated it as a sacred holiday to be celebrated in church and then in privacy, with family; others thought of it as a type of Carnival, taking the opportunity to get drunk and party in the streets with strangers.
And in one fell swoop, Moore imagines a world in which the problems of class with which he is surrounded daily are transformed into something magical and good. Twelve years before Moore wrote this poem, the landscape and demographics of New York City had begun to shift in ways that would affect him personally. The city had begun implementing a plan to make a grid system of streets up in the neighborhood in which Moore resided. In particular, the plan would make what would become Ninth Avenue run straight through his estate. But then, in , Ninth Avenue was dug straight through his estate.
By the time Moore wrote his Christmastime poem, then, he was not living in a pastoral wonderland, and he was mighty pissed off about this. How does this manifest in his poem?
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Moore paints Santa, in no uncertain terms, as the very kind of person — a dirty peddler! The pipe is a particularly interesting marker given that in s in American cities, it was so accepted that the rich smoked long pipes and the poor smoked short pipes that upon purchasing a long pipe, those of the lower classes would often cut them down.