Dr. Fell, Somewhere in Brazil

Too busy to pen my own I present one of my favourites from Thomas Hardy.

To the uninitiated the myth is that all the animals of the field kneel and pray on Christmas Eve, their own midnight mass. 

May you all get the Christmas you deserve.

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.