My pattern, St. Nicholas, by Fitz & Floyd,
Retired many years, breaking I hope to avoid~
The plates show St. Nick decorating the tree~
His fondness for musical sounds, you can see.
Drums, horns, as well as bells too,
Are placed on the tree all in plain view~
Beaded garland is swagged & placed just so,
Candles lit on the tree cast a warm glow~
A candy cane here, a star placed there,
A Reindeer helper is doing his share.
The mice are not stirring, they’re sleeping instead~
The shaker set holder, a shoe for their bed~
The crackers are placed along side each plate~
When pulling apart, a snap they create~
Crab apples, cranberries & nuts fill my vases~
Once again on my table, keeping their places.
Several weeks they will last, a bit of nature they add~
A glimpse of last week’s table here can be had.
Coffee is brewed & ready to pour,
Help yourself to a cup, there is plenty more~
A stocking is hung on the sideboard with care,
My hope that St. Nick will look for it there~
The placemats are beaded, they sparkle & shine~
I saw them at Home Goods & said to myself, “Mine!”
They leapt from the aisle, right into my cart~
For the economy, I am doing my part :-)
Reindeer hold candles, which ones I don’t know,
Maybe Dasher? or Dancer? providing a glow~
Prancer? or Vixen? I don’t know their names,
I’m ashamed to admit, they all look the same~
The stump of Nick’s pipe is lit you can see,
By evidence of smoke rising next to the tree~
A sweet Chocolate is placed at each setting too,
Images many & dear, look here to view~
The glass how it twinkles, reflections how merry,
Venetian Goblets, a shade between roses & cherry~
Only for moments I turned from the table,
Hearing prancing & pawing, I came as quickly as able~
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But my own treasured book, complete with reindeer~
Plucked from my shelf, placed directly in view,
Comet? or Cupid? wish me to share pages with you~
by Clement C. Moore, illustrated by Christian Birmingham
In 1822, a New York clergyman named Clement Clarke Moore spun together Christmas memories for his children. The poem he wrote featured a red-suited Santa in a reindeer-drawn sleigh, a never-empty sack of toys, and stockings hung expectantly above the fireplace. He called it “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” and it was then published anonymously in a newspaper in Troy, New York. It captured the public’s imagination. The poem’s opening line—“ ‘Twas the night before Christmas” soon replaced the original title.
A joy to read aloud, Moore’s poem has endured. Beginning in hushed suspense, the poem builds to a dramatic crescendo as the rollicking verses usher in the mysterious midnight visitor.
A tale of anticipation and wonder, “The Night Before Christmas” has become a holiday tradition in itself for many families.
Up to my sideboard, the coursers they flew~
St. Nick’s Milk & Cookies, help yourself to some too :-)
If I don’t see you again before Christmas Day,
May your wishes & dreams be delivered by sleigh!
Thank you for your visit & thanks to my hostesses:
Susan at Between Naps on the Porch for providing disaholics everywhere a place to play ~
Jain at Food for Thought, a delicious blog for readers with an appetite for the written word~
The Tablescaper for Seasonal Sundays~
A Stroll Thru Life for Table Top Tuesday~