Carol-Singers Poem by james watkin

The upraised voice, incandescent
With praiseful joy! Force divine!
Angel-read, as if seized just now
The Good News. Each thundered line!

There's a rightness adds to its charm
In melding a tune, soft swells
As a balm, soulless darks poured on
With a tale strikes dumb all hells.

Of your desolate shrills whence sped
O winter night? O world sunk?
Stood up to by what flickers in
Each little Gabriel's spunk.