I really just want to call this poem "Koch"

I would take it from your ears,
the voice of the birds in the morning
the ones who sing before the dawn
and after the sleep you did not miss,
those hours when we toiled
and raked furrows in our minds.
You slept, or maybe you woke,
for I hear an early wake is a badge
of pride among the great.
I can't imagine that you listened,
awake or sleeping, but you heard
and I say you don't deserve it,
so be grateful I've no more authority
over birds than over you.