A good wake-up poem from Wallace Stevens:
The sun, that brave man, Comes through boughs that lie in wait, That brave man.
Green and gloomy eyes In dark forms of the grass Run away.
The good stars, Pale helms and spiky spurs, Run away.
Fears of my bed, Fears of life and fears of death, Run away.
That brave man comes up From below and walks without meditation, That brave man.
I think this pairs nicely with one from William Carlos Williams, "El Hombre":
It's a strange courage you give me ancient star:
Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!