A Justification for Insomnia (A Doggerel Piece in Heroic Verse)

To the daylight hours I send my weal
for to some, they have indeed their appeal,
but 'tis ever the night that I like best
(not, as some may say, for its wickedness)
But for the calm that pervades o'er the land
When music sounds more striking, when, pen 'n hand,
I can seek words that full truest resound
with the state of my soul, no longer bound
to the trivial ooze of common speech,
that swamps all 'round the midday, as a leech
insatiate, that knows no food of its own
and must sponge among Custom's wasted bones.