Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 2).djvu/655

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A Vision of St. Nicholas.
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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 they drove out of sight—"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

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