The Oxen
Thomas Hardy
1840 to 1928
Track 1
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Now they are all on their knees,
An elder said as we sat in a flock
To doubt they were kneeling then.
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
We pictured the meek mild creatures where
In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
Our childhood used to know,
I should go with him in the gloom,
By the embers in hearthside ease.
Come; see the oxen kneel,
So fair a fancy few would weave
Nor did it occur to one of us there
In these years! Yet, I feel,
Hoping it might be so.
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
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