Saint Nicholas.

Saint Nicholas brings presents
    For little girls and boys;
Saint Nicholas brings dozens
    Of all the nicest toys.

Hang out your biggest stocking
    Before you go to sleep;
But if you hear him coming,
    You mustn't even peep.

Richard Hunter

No biography available

Richard Hunter

Brownie.

Richard Hunter, Simple Poetry

Punch.

Richard Hunter, Simple Poetry

Algeria.

Richard Hunter, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

St. Nicholas.

In the far-off Polar seas,
Far beyond the Hebrides,
Where the icebergs, towering high,
Seem to pierce the wintry sky,
And the fur-clad Esquimaux
Glides in sledges o'er the snow,
Dwells St. Nick, the merry wight,
Patron saint of Christmas night.

Solid walls of massive ice,
Bearing many a quaint device,
Flanked by graceful turrets twain,
Clear as clearest porcelain,
Bearing at a lofty height
Christ's pure cross in simple white,
Carven with surpassing art
From an iceberg's crystal heart.

Here St. Nick, in royal state,
Dwells, until December late
Clips the days at either end,
And the nights at each extend;
Then, with his attendant sprites,
Scours the earth on wintry nights,
Bringing home, in well-filled hands,
Childre...

Horatio Alger, Jr.

A Visit From St. Nicholas.

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,
In 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 mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap--


When out on the lawn there rose 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 mid-day to objects below;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tin...

Clement Clarke Moore

Christmas.

"Little children, when rejoicing
    In the merry Christmas morn,
'Mid your sports remember ever
    'Tis the day that Christ was born.

"When on earth, the blessed Saviour
    Said, 'Let children come to me,'
And the little ones he folded
    In his arms, how tenderly!"

"But the Saviour is in heaven,
    And we cannot see him now;
We cannot receive his blessing,
    In his presence cannot bow."

"Listen. In the holy Bible,
    Jesus Christ tells every child
That the way to gain his blessing
    Is by being good and mild."

"Here on earth you may not see him;
    But when this short life is done,
You shall live with him forever
    Where there is no setting sun."

"So remember, Christmas morning,
    That on e...

H. P. Nichols

Twas The Night Before Christmas

'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
In 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 mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,


When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the 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 the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniat...

Clement Clarke Moore

Christmas Treasures

I count my treasures o'er with care.--
The little toy my darling knew,
A little sock of faded hue,
A little lock of golden hair.

Long years ago this holy time,
My little one--my all to me--
Sat robed in white upon my knee
And heard the merry Christmas chime.

"Tell me, my little golden-head,
If Santa Claus should come to-night,
What shall he bring my baby bright,--
What treasure for my boy?" I said.

And then he named this little toy,
While in his round and mournful eyes
There came a look of sweet surprise,
That spake his quiet, trustful joy.

And as he lisped his evening prayer
He asked the boon with childish grace;
Then, toddling to the chimney-place,
He hung this little stocking there.

That night, while lengthe...

Eugene Field

Santa Claus

"Halt! Who goes there?" the sentry's call
Rose on the midnight air
Above the noises of the camp,
The roll of wheels, the horses' tramp.
The challenge echoed over all,
"Halt! Who goes there?"

A quaint old figure clothed in white,
He bore a staff of pine,
And ivy-wreath was on his head.
"Advance, O friend," the sentry said,
"Advance, for this is Christmas Night,
And give the countersign."

"No sign or countersign have I.
Through many lands I roam
The whole world over far and wide.
To exiles all at Christmastide
From those who love them tenderly
I bring a thought of home.

"From English brook and Scottisn burn,
From cold Canadian snows,
From those far lands ye hold most dear
I bring you all a greeting here,
A frond of...

Andrew Barton Paterson