"Morning Song of Senlin" by Conrad Aiken (1889-1973)

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning 

When the light drips through the shutters like the dew, 

I arise, I face the sunrise, 

And do the things my fathers learned to do. 

Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops 

Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die, 

And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet 

Stand before a glass and tie my tie.