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