Eleanor, 11-July 11 Genoa, Pisa

July 11

GENOA

Chris Columba was a Wop.
Climbing, covering the top,
Of his birth place ivy grown,
Nearby, the city ramparts rose
And still there stands an ancient gate.

A monastery once in state,
Filled the intervening space.
Now of this the only trace,
In a line of pillars tall,
Where once stood the cloister wall.

Ancient Genoa lies down,
Near the sea; the newer town.
Sprawl across the near-by hill,
Where the ancient forts are still.
These are, because of elevation
A radio transmitting station.

July 12

PISA

We didn't stop at Pisa, but looking from the train,
We saw the leaning tower brilliant in the noon-day light.
Too many buildings intervened to see the bottom plain,
So it didn't look quite tall enough, but still a thrilling sight.

And so we came at last to see the city of my hopes,
For this I've traveled many day; to see it, left my home.
The city on the Tiber, the city of the Popes,
The city of the Caesars, the Eternal City, Rome.