human
Can you write me a poem about christmas, kerchie and reindeer?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about christmas, kerchie and reindeer:
  'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In the hope 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 midday to objects below--
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name--
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
Now, dash away! Dash away! Dash away! All!"
As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too.
And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each tiny hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a pedlar just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up in 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 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 he drove out of sight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
'Twas the night after Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring--excepting a mouse.
The stockings were flung in haste over the chair,
For hopes of St. Nicholas were no longer there.
The children were restlessly tossing in bed,
For the pie and the candy were heavy as lead;
While mamma in her kerchief, and I in my gown,
Had just made up our minds that we would not lie down,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I went with a dash,
Flung open the shutter, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of noon-day to objects below.
When what to my long anxious eyes should appear
But a horse and a sleigh, both old-fashioned and queer;
With a little old driver, so solemn and slow,
I knew at a glance it must be Dr Brough.
I drew in my head, and was turning around,
When upstairs came the Doctor, with scarcely a sound,
He wore a thick overcoat, made long ago,
And the beard on his chin was white with the snow.
He spoke a few words, and went straight to his work;
He felt all the pulses,--then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
With a nod of his head to the chimney he goes:--
"A spoonful of oil, ma'am, if you have it handy;
No nuts and no raisins, no pies and no candy.
These tender young stomachs cannot well digest
All the sweets that they get; toys and books are the best.
But I know my advice will not find many friends,
For the custom of Christmas the other way tends.
The fathers and mothers, and Santa Claus, too,
Are exceedingly blind. Well, a good-night to you!"
And I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight:
These feastings and candies make Doctors' bills right!"
Bertie was a very good boy. He was kind, obedient, truthful, and
unselfish. He had, however, one great fault,--he always forgot.
His father and mother talked the matter over, and decided that
something must be done to make the little boy remember.
"Santa Claus may forget some of those things," said his mother.
Bertie wept for an hour. Then his mother told him they were all
It was very strange to Bertie, but on grandpa's tree he found
"Why," said Tita, "his feet are all bare!"
"Let's open the window and ask him."
That night, after Tita had said her prayers, she said:
Did you ever know a boy
Make believe he had a toy?
That's the way
Babies play;
Babies who are young and small
Make believe they play at ball!
After thinking the matter over, Mrs. Howard decided she would say
Time passed on, and winter set in, and full of the delights of
skating, the boys forgot all about the expected arrival of their
grandmother.
During the Christmas holidays the boys one morning started off to
On the way to her cottage the old woman asked him all sorts of
But the Squire's skates were not to be won by him, for on the
sprained, for she could not bear to put it to the ground.
Poor Leslie! He turned first red, then white, and then said, in a
"Never mind--you go on without me."
One night she said, "We ought to have a party before Santa Claus
"I can get the supper," added a big rag doll. The other dolls had
"We don't have no good times," sighed little Peter.
"We can't slide. We haven't any sleds," whimpered Jimmy.
"Why, of course boys can't have a good time without sleds," said
grandma, cheerily. "Let us look about and see if we can't find
When the sleds were finished she dyed them red and drew a yellow
It had seemed to the little Wendell children that they would have
So all day long they were busy arranging five tableaux for the
Miss Marcelle had arranged everything so nicely, and Celeste, the
surprise.
So all the children came in rosy and smiling.
"Why, didn't you know us?" asked the little Lord Admiral.
And this is why they sing on that morning more than on any
other. After the birds have found shelter from the north wind on
good-will to men!"
Her papa smiled, and handed the open letter to her mamma.
But her mamma folded the letter and said nothing.
On Christmas eve the box, which had just arrived, was opened, and
"Oh, what fun!" gayly exclaimed the child. "Did uncle tell you to
It was a turkey for one,--for only Uncle Roy's niece. But all the
We are a band of carollers,
We march through frost and snow,
But care not for the weather
As on our way we go.
At every hall or cottage
That stands upon our way,
We stop to give the people
Best wishes for the day.
We pray a merry Christmas,
Made bright by Christmas cheer,
With peace, and hope, and gladness
And all they may hold dear.
And for all those that happen
To pass us on our way
We have a smile, and wish them
A merry Christmas-day.
The old fir tree, whose high branches almost touched the roof,
knew all about those shadows, but it was so old no one could ever
"There's something scratching on the door," whispered Jessie; but
Christmas goodies and was trying his best to find a way into the
pantry and test them with his sharp teeth.
"Come," said Jessie, "we'll turn to icicles if we stay here much,
"Poor thing," said papa, "you shall come inside till morning."
Papa smiled and looked at mamma, and then everybody said "Merry
Christmas" at once.
"It was the day before Christmas. Mother was at the house of a
"Mother advised us to go to bed and wait until morning to see our
"Oh! I hope I shall have what I want to-morrow!" said Gracie.
"Good-night, and call us early in the morning."
Each little letter ended with,--"Just like Brother's."
One night, after they had gone to bed, Jamie said, "Ted, if Santa
"Oh, yes; and if we get fur mittens it will be such fun to make a
"And a snow-man," Jamie answered.
"I guess you won't," Jamie said, speaking loudly.
"Why not?" Ted asked.
"Because it'll be as much my sled as yours."
"Yes, of course," Ted replied; "but I chose it first."
"You are a selfish boy!" said Jamie.
"Well, then, so are you!"
Suddenly Jamie cried, "O Ted, here's a letter!"
"My dear Boys,--No sled this year. It quarrelled so I was
afraid to bring it. I dropped it off the load about a week
ago. Get ready for it next year. Merry Christmas! SANTA