Gen Five Minutes More Poem by Mill Field

The Morn dispels the darkling Night
And sets the eastern hearth alight;
But I to slumber tightly cling
Nor ope my eyes for anything.

Like-wise the Sun does show some might
With searching fingers, long and bright;
And children stir when birds take wing
But I in dreamland still do sing.

A distant clock chimes sonorous six
And wakened conscience prods and pricks;
But all these signals I ignore,
There's time to sleep five minutes more.