Eleanor, 17-July 21 Venice, Stresa

July 21

VENICE

List to the swish of the gondolier's oar,
As he sends the gondola away from the shore,
Cleverly managing intricate curves.
Another approaches and deftly he swerves.
When you'd think that the side from the boat would be torn.

His shrill yelling serves him instead of a horn.
Oh, boating in Venice is all kinds of larks,
As we sail past the bell tower topping St. Mark’s,
And past the Rialto, where Shylock we're told
Collected with avarice ducats of gold.

Oh, nights in Venitia are lovely and long
And luring, the lilt of the gondolier's song,
And this is his song throughout most of the trip,
"Oh, leddy, pliz don'ta forgeta da tip."

July 22

STRESSA

Milan is big and bustling like a man with a booming bass.
Rome is a lovely lady with lavender bows in her lace.
Dreaming of days far distant when a whole world knelt at their feet.
Naples a gaudy young girl with her outer garments neat,
While beneath are filthy tatters and a ragged petticoat.

Venice a fairy princess adrift in a fairy boat,
Florence a wise old scholar, breathing beauty at every breath.
Genoa an exhumed body still bearing the imprint of death.
Sorrento a smiling child with his arms brimming over with flowers.
And each of the magic seven puts a magic spell on your hours.

July 23

MONTREUX

I have loved a flowing stream before;
It sang sweet words to me.
I have felt the soft embracing of the amours of the sea.
I made answer to a mountain when it called me from its height.
But I never loved a lake until the moon had set tonight,
For who could fail to fall in love on such as night as this?
So I lingered on the terrace to receive the lake's first kiss,
With the pine trees and sweet music and the moon I lingered on
By the lake upon whose borders stands the Castle of Chillon,