The Oxen

Thomas Hardy

1840 to 1928

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Track 1

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

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