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I think ‘hoping it might be so’ is pretty good going.

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That's lovely.

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My kids have a picture book of Susan Hill’s spin-off poem, “Can It Be True?”, which Hill based off of Hardy’s “The Oxen.” The animals kneeling at Christ’s birth is just the perfect image of pre-Fall Eden.

Merry Christmas, Sally and Joseph!

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Liked by this old atheist too. Though perhaps 'Journey of the Magi' is the very greatest Christmas poem.

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Another of my favorites. I am drawn to the subtle melancholy of it; the speaker no longer believes that the oxen kneel (or that Christ has come) and yet -- something in him wants it to be so and wishes that it were . . . but he won't go to look and be disappointed. I love the use of the word "flock" in the first stanza!

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I love the horse, looking over the wall, in the 17th-century Mexican painting, done in oil and mother of pearl, at the end of the post. I clipped out the handmade frame, to save space, but it's lovely too. https://jaimeeguiguren.com/usr/library/documents/main/discovering-viceregal-latin-american-treasures-catalogue_compressed-1-.pdf

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Thanks for including that!

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Prefer this of Robert Southwell SJ (the first 3 stanzas anyway) to The Burning Babe:

THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST.

By Robert Southwell

Behold the father is his daughter's son,

The bird that built the nest is hatch'd therein,

The old of years an hour hath not outrun,

Eternal life to live doth now begin,

The word is dumb, the mirth of heaven doth weep,

Might feeble is, and force doth faintly creep.

O dying souls! behold your living spring!

O dazzled eyes! behold your sun of grace!

Dull ears attend what word this word doth bring!

Up, heavy hearts, with joy your joy embrace!

From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs,

This life, this light, this word, this joy repairs.

Gift better than Himself God doth not know,

Gift better than his God no man can see;

This gift doth here the giver given bestow,

Gift to this gift let each receiver be:

God is my gift, Himself He freely gave me,

God's gift am I, and none but God shall have me.

Man alter'd was by sin from man to beast;

Beast's food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh;

Now God is flesh, and lies in manger press'd,

As hay the brutest sinner to refresh:

Oh happy field wherein this fodder grew,

Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew!

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Ah, Bob, just when Sally and I picked "The Burning Babe" as this year's poem for Christmas Day.

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Thank you and Sally for this work of care, attention and love! Merry Christmas! Beautiful poem choice. - Carla

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Thanks! Merry Christmas to you and to Sally. I'm not able to attend closely to your posts every day, but they are an important part of my day.

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There are many good settings of it. Gerald Finzi of course set it, as Hardy was the poet he set most often:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amLJU2LjJVs

And it's set in Ralph Vaughan Williams' Christmas cantata, Hodie (at 24:57 here):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mh0CmBQFhEI

One setting I don't know very well is that by Britten.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEpK_H2Vybk

And finally (though there are others), Alan Rawsthorne, a composer I like okay, set it, but I've never heard it and it doesn't seem to be up on YouTube.

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Beautiful, even to an old atheist. Merry Christmas.

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