December's filled with happy sounds,
Chiming notes of icicles in wind,
Childish voices linked in carol rounds,
Organ tones, or sleigh bells pinned
To blankets, held by children, hung from tack.
If a voice croons lullabies, while candles
Flicker light clichés; if pompous Handel's
Hymns swell churches, armories, and halls,
Fill the night while blue trees, tall as
Steeples, catch the radiant moonlight
Though the voices stray, untuned, night
And the fair season harmonies put back.
What matters is the singing, not the song;
Voices raised in joy are never wrong.