5 Santa Claus Poems

Be reminded of the magic of Santa Claus by these poems. Also a poem about St. Nick and Kriss Kringle. Magical people to children at Christmas time!

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  1. I Believe In Santa
    Poet: Julie Hebert

    Santa Claus, hes coming again,
    I know this is for sure.
    He delivers presents to everyone,
    Even though it sounds obscure.

    I know what you all are thinking,
    How is this even achievable?
    One man, flying reindeer and millions of children,
    Is it even believable?

    I believe in Santa,
    I believe he is as great as they say.
    He makes Christmas super special,
    And he does it all in one single day.

    I know not everyone believes in Santa,
    And one day Ill be too old for presents.
    But I wont stop believing in Santa,
    His kindness is what Christmas represents.

    A kind and generous spirit,
    Is what we all hope we can be.
    Especially days leading to Christmas,
    We should all be filled with glee.

    So Merry Christmas to you,
    I hope Santa finds his way.
    Many wishes for a wonderful Christmas,
    And may it be an amazing day.

  2. A Toast To Santa Claus
    Poet: John Kendrick Bangs

    Whene'er I find a man who don't
    Believe in Santa Claus,
    And spite of all remonstrance won't
    Yield up to logic's laws,
    And see in things that lie about
    The proof by no means dim,
    I straightway cut that fellow out,
    And don't believe in him.

    The good old Saint is everywhere
    Along life's busy way.
    We find him in the very air
    We breathe day after day
    Where courtesy and kindliness
    And love are joined together.
    To give to sorrow and distress
    A touch of sunny weather.

    We find him in the maiden's eyes
    Beneath the mistletoe,
    A-sparkling as the star-lit skies
    All golden in their glow.
    We find him in the pressure of
    The hand of sympathy,
    And where there's any thought of love
    He's mighty sure to be.

    So here's to good old Kindliheart!
    The best bet of them all.
    Who never fails to do his part
    In life's high festival;
    The worthy bearer of the crown
    With which we top the Saint.
    A bumper to his health, and down
    With them that say he ain't!

  3. Santa Claus
    Poet: Unknown

    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 thro' the snow like a ship thro' 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.

  4. Kriss Kringle
    Poet: Thomas Bailey Aldrich

    Just as the moon was fading
    Amid her misty rings.
    And every stocking was stuffed
    With childhood's precious things,

    Old Kriss Kringle looked round,
    And saw on the elm-tree bough,
    High-hung, an oriole's nest.
    Silent and empty now.

    "Quite like a stocking," he laughed,
    Pinned up there on the tree!
    Little I thought the birds
    Expected a present from me!"

    Then old Kriss Kingle, who loves
    A joke as well as the best,
    Dropped a handful of flakes
    In the oriole's empty nest.

  5. Saint Nicholas
    Poet: Robert L, Munger.

    On Christmas Eve
    You would scarce believe
    How early the sand-man came a-creeping;
    By the way each head
    Went into the bed
    When prayers were said
    You'd have thought them sleeping.
    (You would really have thought the children sleeping.)

    With his usual trick
    Came upon the roof with a terrible clatter;
    And Dolly and Sue,
    And Polly and Prue,
    And Jonathan too,
    Knew what was the matter.
    (But of course they didn't wake up at the clatter.)

    Little Miss Polly,
    Dreamed of a dolly.
    Hung by the wrist to a Christmas tree,
    And a candy boar,
    With an echoing roar
    From the e-qua-tor
    To the frozen sea.
    (An astonishing boar, 'twizt you and me.)

    Ah, Christmas Day!
    The old folks say
    They sleep through the night and it doesn't matter;
    For Dolly and Sue,
    And Polly and Prue,
    And Jonathan too.
    Make up for the clatter
    Of Nick in the night, that 's the truth of the matter.
More Christmas Poems

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