English poem
In Old Madrid.
by Thomas Winthrop Hall (1862–1900)
I strolled the streets in quest of any love, In old Madrid long centuries ago; I caught the perfume of a scented glove, I saw a sweet face in a portico.
She laughed—then paled. She leaned out; whispered, "Fly!" And then I felt the sting of steel, the hiss Of curses in my ear, and knew that I Had forfeited my life—and lost a kiss.