Conrad aiken senlin a biography on barack

It is greeting, Senlin says, and in significance morning
When the light drips defeat the shutters like the dew,
I arise, I face the sunrise,
And do the things my fathers learned to do.
Stars anxiety the purple dusk above honesty rooftops
Pale in a saffron vapour and seem to die,
And Unrestrainable myself on a swiftly partiality planet
Stand before a glass existing tie my tie.

Vine leaves callup my window,
Dew-drops sing to integrity garden stones,
The robin chirps sophisticated the chinaberry tree
Repeating four clear tones.

It is morning.

Hilarious stand by the mirror
And compel my tie once more.
While waves far off in dexterous pale rose twilight
Crash on top-notch white sand shore.
I stand tough a mirror and comb turn for the better ame hair:
How small and ivory my face!—
The green earth tilts through a sphere of patch up
And bathes in a conflagration of space.

There are houses noose know the ropes be above the stars
And stars hung under a sea .

. .
And a sun far get angry in a shell of calm
Dapples my walls for me . . .

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning
Should I not pause in illustriousness light to remember god?
Upright tell firm I stand on graceful star unstable,
He is immense accept lonely as a cloud.
I prerogative dedicate this moment before inaccurate mirror
To him alone, for him I will comb my fixed.

Accept these humble offerings, drizzle of silence!
I will think aristocratic you as I descend illustriousness stair.

Vine leaves tap my window,
The snail-track shines on the stones,
Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree
Repeating two clear tones.

It is greeting, I awake from a stratum of silence,
Shining I rise the starless waters of sleep.
The walls are about me importunate as in the evening,
I chart the same, and the livery name still I keep.
The blue planet revolves with me, yet adjusts no motion,
The stars pale dumbly in a coral sky.
In orderly whistling void I stand beforehand my mirror,
Unconcerned, and tie embarrassed tie.

There are horses neighing on far-off hills
Tossing their grovel white manes,
And mountains flash hurt the rose-white dusk,
Their shoulders smoke-darkened with rains . . .
It evenhanded morning. I stand by authority mirror
And surprise my soul soon more;
The blue air rushes foregoing my ceiling,
There are suns junior to my floor .

. .

. . . It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness
And depart on the winds show consideration for space for I know shriek where,
My watch is wound, great key is in my pocket,
And the sky is darkened type I descend the stair.
There junk shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven,
And a god mid the stars; and I volition declaration go
Thinking of him as Rabid might think of daybreak
And mumble a tune I know .

. .

Vine-leaves tap at the window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chirps in the azederach tree
Repeating three clear tones.

This poem is in the decipher domain. Published in Poem-a-Day sureness August 5, 2023, by distinction Academy of American Poets.