Chapters 7
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1 The Oxen - Read by APC 1:05
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 straw'y 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 some one said on Christmas Eve, Come, see the oxen kneel, in the lonely Barton by yonder Coombe, our childhood used to know, I should go with him in the gloom, hoping it might be so.
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2 The Oxen - Read by EHL 0:55
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 some one said on Christmas Eve, Come, see the oxen kneel, in the lonely Barton by yonder comb, our childhood used to know. I should go with him in the gloom, hoping it might be so.
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3 The Oxen - Read by JB 1:01
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 and hearthside ease. We pictured the meek, mild creatures, where they dwelt in their straw-y pen. Nor did it occur to one of us there, to doubt they were kneeling then. So fair fancy few would weave in these years, yet I feel, if someone said on Christmas Eve, Come, see the oxen, Neil, in the lonely boughten by yonder coombe, our childhood used to know. I should go with him in the gloom, hoping it might be so.
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4 The Oxen - Read by KLH 1:01
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 Coombe our childhood used to know. I should go with him in the gloom, hoping it might be so.
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5 The Oxen - Read by SD 1:12
The Oxen by Thomas Hardy. Recorded by Susan Denny, Denton, Texas, December, Two Thousand and Sixth.
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 some one said on Christmas Eve, Come, see the oxen kneel in the lonely barton by yonder coombe our childhood used to know. I should go with him in the gloom, hoping it might be so.
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6 The Oxen - Read by SS 0:53
The Oxen by Thomas Hardy. Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock. Now they are all on their knees, and elders 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, and the lonely Barton by yonder comb our childhood used to know. I should go with him in the gloom, hoping it might be so.
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7 The Oxen - Read by WH 0:53
The Oxen by Thomas Hardy.
Christmas Eve and Twelve of the Clock. Now they're all on their knees, an elder said, as we sat in a flock by the embers in Harstides. We pictured the meek, mild creatures where they dwelt in their straw-y 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 coombe our childhood used to know, I should go with him in the gloom, hoping it might be so.