Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.

平安夜，时钟十二点，

“Now they are all on their knees,”

“他们现在都跪着。”有位长老说，

An elder said as we sat in a flock

在靠近壁炉的火烬边

By the embers in hearthside ease.

我们舒适地坐进人群里。

我们想像的画面里

We pictured the meek mild creatures where

温顺的牲口居住在草棚

They dwelt in their strawy pen,

我们没有丝毫的怀疑

Nor did it occur to one of us there

它们那时正跪在那里

To doubt they were kneeling then.

这些年很少有人会编织

这么美好的想象！然而，我感觉，

So fair a fancy few would weave

如果在平安夜有人说

In these years! Yet, I feel,

“走，去看看牛群跪膝，

If someone said on Christmas Eve,

在远处峡谷偏僻的农场

“Come; see the oxen kneel,

我们童年时熟悉的地方。”

我会趁着黑夜与他同往，

“In the lonely barton by yonder coomb

带着这一切都是真实的希望。

Our childhood used to know,”

I should go with him in the gloom,

Hoping it might be so.