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 findeth 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 mounts to the roof like a bird, And glides to his seat in the sleigh; Not the 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 eateth 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. * * * * * THE CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS DAY ROBERT HERRICK Kindle the Christmas brand, and then Till sunset let it burn; Which quench'd, then lay it up again Till Christmas next return. Part must be kept wherewith to teend The Christmas log next year, And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend Can do no mischief there. * * * * * DECEMBER HARRIET F. BLODGETT I Oh! holly branch and mistletoe. And Christmas chimes where'er we go. And stockings pinned up in a row! These are thy gifts, December! II And if the year has made thee old, And silvered all thy locks of gold, Thy heart has never been a-cold Or known a fading ember. III The whole world is a Christmas tree, And stars its many candles be. Oh! sing a carol joyfully The year's great feast in keeping! IV For once, on a December night An angel held a candle bright. And led three wise men by its light To where a child was sleeping. * * * * * THE FESTIVAL OF ST. NICHOLAS MARY MAPES DODGE