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Consolation

Rating: 3.7

How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,
wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns.
How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard
and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.

There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous
domes and there is no need to memorize a succession
of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.
No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's

little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Chuck Pyle 27 May 2020

oh how utterly perfecter the time..

0 0 Reply

Nothing in the world makes you love home so much as being gone far from it for far too long.

5 3 Reply
Mara Seer 31 August 2006

Writing this from a hotspot in Assisi, Italia, where I have been wanting to find and share this poem with other wannabe ex-pats for six months now. Just discovered this website this morning, thank you, thank you! My books of Billy Collins' poems are almost the only things I miss from home. And Collins' love and understanding of Italy - its people, its food, its wine, its gioia di vivere - shine through in several other poems as well.

7 3 Reply

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