平安夜，时钟十二点，

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.

“他们现在都跪着。”有位长老说，

“Now they are all on their knees,”

在靠近壁炉的火烬边

An elder said as we sat in a flock

我们舒适地坐进人群里。

By the embers in hearthside ease.

我们想像的画面里

温顺的牲口居住在草棚

We pictured the meek mild creatures where

我们没有丝毫的怀疑

They dwelt in their strawy pen,

它们那时正跪在那里

Nor did it occur to one of us there

这些年很少有人会编织

To doubt they were kneeling then.

这么美好的想象！然而，我感觉，

如果在平安夜有人说

So fair a fancy few would weave

“走，去看看牛群跪膝，

In these years! Yet, I feel,

在远处峡谷偏僻的农场

If someone said on Christmas Eve,

我们童年时熟悉的地方。”

“Come; see the oxen kneel,

我会趁着黑夜与他同往，

带着这一切都是真实的希望。

“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.