Asymmetrical Information

To me this poem evokes the image of an old portly Englishman sitting by a fire, hardly able to see for the sentimental tears in his eyes, he is so enjoying the pleasure of nice dreams. I don't mean to disrespect the poem by saying that; I just mean that the sort of person who says things like this is also the sort who is long past having hope already --hope for real things-- and that's why he hopes for sweet but un-natural things like animals kneeling.

And Merry Christmas.

When the stores open again tomorrow, you might want to pick up a recording of Ralph Vaughan Williams' Hodie, which among many other fine things includes a beautiful setting of Hardy's poem.

Gee whiz, Paul, don't you ever wish you still believed in Santa Claus? It reminded me of the feeling you get watching your children go through the season, wishing you could have as much faith.

My correspondent is, however, an elderly English fellow who tends to relate most things to his WWII experience. Perhaps you are not far off the mark.

I don't mind sentiment because I'm that way myself -- my eyes are always tearing for no good reason. Like, if a friend and I have "a moment", or say something to each other which we haven't said in a long time but has been hovering just below the surface, like "I love you", my eyes turn into these two glistening gems immediately. This also happens when I talk about ghosts or tell a scary story, and I'm really really embarrassed about it. I guess it's alright, but when you try and make people feel that way, and when you exalt that in a poem, then I smell a fault.

But maybe, as you suggest, this isn't about sentimentality, but about innocence. The reason I can't see that is because I'm still hung up about this bit with the oxen kneeling. I mean, if an old sentimental gentleman saw oxen kneeling, he might well think this is something divine -- just the hopeful sign he'd been look for. But if an innocent child were to see an oxen kneeling, she would think something was wrong with it. The child would help up the oxen, because she would be innocent of all the assumptions that would suggest it is a positive thing for an ox to humbly kneel. She would say to the oxen, "Why don't you just get up?"

I am just that sort of portly elderly English gentleman. To add to your confusion however the poem is based on fact. If you go into a cow shed at night and switch on the light the animals will rise, and do so hby kneeling on their front legs! At least they do so in England!

None of our correspondents comment on the deeply religious tone and meaning of the poem

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