Markings 192

December 8, 2018

The Oxen

BY THOMAS HARDY

 

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.

“Now they are all on their knees,”

An elder said as we sat in a flock

By the embers in hearthside ease.

 

We pictured the meek mild creatures where

They dwelt in their strawy pen,

Nor did it occur to one of us there

To doubt they were kneeling then.

 

So fair a fancy few would weave

In these years! Yet, I feel,

If someone said on Christmas Eve,

“Come; see the oxen kneel,

 

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb

Our childhood used to know,”

I should go with him in the gloom,

Hoping it might be so.

 

 

 

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload

Featured Posts

What are the 'Essentials' of a Good Poem? - Markings 150

May 15, 2019

1/6
Please reload

Recent Posts

April 28, 2020

April 27, 2020

April 24, 2020

April 18, 2020

April 14, 2020

April 1, 2020

March 31, 2020

March 21, 2020

March 20, 2020

March 15, 2020

Please reload

Archive