Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > An American Anthology, 1787–1900
Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  An American Anthology, 1787–1900.  1900.
484. Segovia and Madrid
By Rose Terry Cooke
IT sings to me in sunshine,
It whispers all day long,
My heartache like an echo
Repeats the wistful song:
Only a quaint old love-lilt,        5
Wherein my life is hid,—
“My body is in Segovia,
But my soul is in Madrid!”
I dream, and wake, and wonder,
For dream and day are one,        10
Alight with vanished faces,
And days forever done.
They smile and shine around me
As long ago they did;
For my body is in Segovia,        15
But my soul is in Madrid!
Through inland hills and forests
I hear the ocean breeze,
The creak of straining cordage,
The rush of mighty seas,        20
The lift of angry billows
Through which a swift keel slid;
For my body is in Segovia,
But my soul is in Madrid.
O fair-haired little darlings        25
Who bore my heart away!
A wide and woful ocean
Between us roars to-day;
Yet am I close beside you
Though time and space forbid;        30
My body is in Segovia,
But my soul is in Madrid.
If I were once in heaven,
There would be no more sea;
My heart would cease to wander,        35
My sorrows cease to be;
My sad eyes sleep forever,
In dust and daisies hid,
And my body leave Segovia.
—Would my soul forget Madrid?        40


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