Early To

Days that start early and bright,
The sun singing high in the sky
Are rarely still wakeful at night
When moon too has said her goodbye.
I must therefore perforce ask why
The late-to-wake are always told
We waste the day as by and by
It turns to night and then grows cold.
Perhaps we should be very bold
And say "I like the night as well
When darkness does the land enfold:
This sunlight is a type of hell.
Nor do I wake less than you do;
The night time hours up count too."