A Visit From St. Nicholas

Poetry for the season.


December 15, 2015

with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore….


'Twas the night before Finals, when all through the dorm

Not a creature was stirring, fear was the norm;

The iPhones were placed in their chargers with care,

In hopes that inspiration soon would be there;

The students were seated cross-legged on their beds;

While visions of problem sets danced in their heads;

And TriDelt in her sweats, and Pike in his cap,

Had just revived their brains with a tall non-fat frappe,

When out on the quad 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, Anthro! now, Bio! now Physics and Chemistry!

On, Latin! on, German! on, Slavic and History!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As drafts that before a wild editor wait,

When they avoid a correction, egos do elate;

So up to the housetop the coursers they flew

With the sleigh full of books, 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 tweed, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of books 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;

The stump of a pencil he held tight in his teeth,

And chalk dust, 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 geek,

And I laughed when I saw him, I could hardly speak;

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 backpacks; 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 shout,

And away they all flew like a thesis on the out.

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

“Happy Finals to all, and to all a good night!



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