Christmas Eve in Town

This is the night, O small ones! At last this is the night When the sweet old Saint comes driving from his land of shining white! His rushing little reindeer must have wings upon their heels, And as they come their harness bells chime out in silvery peals. (But they are fairy reindeer—and he may be fairy, too— And it's hard to follow fairies on a road of midnight blue!)

Yet whether you are little, or very nearly tall, Just wait and see when morning breaks what he has brought you all! Tied up with crimson ribbon or wound with greenest string, And wrapped in snowy paper, you will find each lovely thing; The thing that you have wished for, the thing you most adore— (Well—he always tries to bring them, for that is what he's for.)

So run and hang your stockings up before the fireplace (And may all children do the same in this our year of grace.) But, darlings, hang them properly, and never up-side-down, For Santa Claus has little time when he drives through a town. Then—come here to the window and look up at the stars, And watch them twinkle far away above the motor cars!

There may be carol singers down somewhere in the street Singing, "Noel! Noel!" with voices sharply sweet. So from your banks of painted tin, it's very well I know, You will take out all the pennies and drop them down below! (But if you have no bank, my dear, just smile and wave—and wave— At the chilly singers carolling the song the angels gave.)

Then afterward kneel down beside your warm and fluffy bed, And for a moment fold your hands, and softly bend your head; For O! This is a strange night that comes but once a year; This night of lighted candles, when Bethlehem seems near; This night for happy children—for youth, and song, and dance— And for some to watch the hours through in long remembrance.