And have you been to Genoa, To Genoa, to Genoa, Its shining marble palaces In layers round the hills? You've but to hear the name of it -- Oh, proud and lovely Genoa! -- To have it touch the heart of you With glorifying thrills. The little, crowded, crooked streets, The endless stairs in Genoa, The shipping and the harbors, Both the old one and the new -- There's not a word about the ships Crowding into Genoa But you can safely listen to And know that it is true. * * * * * I met the Flying Dutchman Upon the streets of Genoa. We chatted for a moment Of the weather and the Horn; And before we left -- this happened once In proud and shining Genoa -- He showed me a small picture Of the place where he was born. The Flying Dutchman, you could see, Was quite at home in Genoa; He said -- and looking at him I could scarce believe my eyes -- This was, he thought, the seventh time He had put in to Genoa To stock his little vessel With a hundred years' supplies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY MURRAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CLOSING TIME AT THE SAN DIEGO ZOO by KAREN SWENSON IVAN THE CZAR by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS RENASCENCE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A RHYME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE MONODY ON THE ASTOR HOUSE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |