Dream over golden dream that secret cist,
Thy heart, O heart of me, doth hold, and mood
On mood of silver, when the day’s light fails,
Say who hath touched the secret heart of thee,
Or who hath known what my heart hath not known
Dream over golden dream that secret cist,
Thy heart, O heart of me, doth hold, and mood
On mood of silver, when the day’s light fails,
Say who hath touched the secret heart of thee,
Or who hath known what my heart hath not known
“To take up where you left off!
without a breath of separation
your new movement is begun.
The heart pulses on, developing
a future. You do not rest
your lips, your ears, your fingers.
The field is full of daisies
and the sun is shining greenly.
It is a musical development,
taxing and inspired, before
the old love has echoed away.
To the eager suggestion of a new
face. It will be a great movement!
begun warmly and without a pause.
You have carried yourself to a new
world, put off the final applause.”
Frank O’Hara | “Attacca”