I keep odd hours and I like 'em so;
Awake? Asleep? They hardly matter here.
I do not let the early morning's glow
Control me, and I think it quaint and dear
Precious, even, that some others may
Give such a weight to what the sky outside
Dictates. Who cares if it is night or day?
Day has as many tricks as night to hide
Wrongdoing, and night can be just as clear
If you're tuned to its rhythms. What is he
That lets the turning of the planet bear
Responsibility? I wake when I
Am ready to, and sleep the same. For me
Is not this lazy thralldom to the sky.
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