He comes in the
night! He comes in the night!
He softly, silently comes;
While
the little brown heads on the pillows so white
Are dreaming of
bugles and drums.
He cuts through the snow like a ship through
the foam,
While the white flakes around him whirl;
Who tells
him I know not, but he finds the home
Of each good little boy
and girl.His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide;
It
will carry a host of things,
While dozens of drums hang over the
side,
With the sticks sticking under the strings.
And yet not
the sound of a drum is heard,
Not a bugle blast is blown,
As
he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird,
And drops to the hearth
like a stone.
The little red stockings he silently
fills,
Till the stockings will hold no more;
The bright little
sleds for the great snow hills
Are quickly set down on the
floor.
Then Santa Claus mount to the roof like a bird,
And
glides to his seat in the sleigh;
Not a sound of a bugle or drum
is heard
As he noiselessly gallops away.
He rides to the
East, and he rides to the West,
Of his goodies he touches not
one;
He eats the crumbs of the Christmas feast
When the dear
little folks are done.
Old Santa Claus doeth all that he
can;
This beautiful mission is his;
Then, children be good to
the little old man,
When you find who the little man is.
--Author Unknown
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